


City of Mysteries: The Mark of the Werewolf

by wsdsrdbw4096



Series: City of Mysteries [2]
Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo Where Are You! (Cartoon)
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe, Gen, Origin Story, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2020-10-17 21:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wsdsrdbw4096/pseuds/wsdsrdbw4096
Summary: Scooby-Doo origin story for a new series published to mark the celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Scooby franchise.A string of disappearances attributed to a werewolf sighting in Coolsville leads to the formation of a close partnership and friendship between four teenagers and a dog.





	1. Just another lousy Monday

**Author's Note: Here's another Scooby series I've got in mind, folks!**

**Dimension Seven is essentially a combination between Dimension Four and my _Coolsville Central _series, namely with the 1960s and 1970s setting of the former and the dark and realistic setting of the latter.**

**In addition, this series is a special published for the 50th Anniversary of the _Scooby-Doo _franchise, and what better way for the occasion than starting a new series that takes place around the same time frame as the original SDWAY series and bring in the darker and realistic setting of my flagship _Coolsville Central _series.**

**I don't own _Scooby-Doo_. Hanna-Barbera Productions and Warner Bros. does.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Just another lousy Monday

_October 7, 1968_

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

The alarm clock went off just as I was getting to the sweet, best part of my dream. Namely, the part where Mags, Dad and I will be reunited with Mom, where I find myself able to make full use of my left arm again.

6:00. _Right on schedule_, I almost grumbled to myself as the alarm clock blared through my ears.

It was times like this that made me wish that I had brought a mallet with me, just so that I could smash the blasted alarm clock and catch a few more winks.

However, given that it is Monday today, I know better than trying to sleep in.

In fact, the last time I tried to sleep in, I ended up missing the school bus and arrived at school 30 minutes late.

Suffice to say, Dad sure had a huge fit that day when he got the late note from school, and...well, let's just say that he doesn't need me to contribute more pressure to his already-stressful day.

Anyways, I groaned before I stretched and got out of bed and proceeded with my usual morning routine.

Man, am I long overdue to have my room tidied up. I swear that it's getting more difficult for me to find my stuff in the pile of clothes I frequently tossed around for convenience sake.

At this point, there's nothing much I could do about it, except for trying to remember to clean up my room on Sundays.

With the painkillers I have to take everyday, it's really difficult for me to remember the exact details of what I've planned for myself the previous day or week.

Once I've finished using the washroom and changed into my usual favourite set of clothes, mainly a plain green shirt and a pair of brown pants, I grabbed my school bag and made my way up the stairs to the living room.

Oh, I almost forgot about introducing myself. The name's Rogers. Norville Rogers, though most people at school call me Shaggy, on account of the shaggy-hair style I was frequently recognized for, not that I minded.

In fact, I still don't get what possessed Dad to name me "Norville" when I was born fifteen years ago in 1953.

Either way, on my way up the stairs, I wake up my old pal Scooby Doo as I always do every morning.

One thing to note is that Scoob's been around with my family for a while. Heard that Dad got him as a gift from a Marine friend of his after they apparently broke up a dog-fighting ring in some distant country called Vietnam a few years ago.

When I arrived at the dining room, I spotted my younger sister Margaret, who most people calls her "Maggie", at the table eating her cereal as she always does, along with a plate filled with stacks of pancakes.

"Was wondering when you were gonna get up, Norville." Maggie said to me as I took my seat and poured myself a glass of milk.

"Well, I'm up now, Mags." I replied. "Wouldn't want Dad to have another fit when he receives a late note from Central."

"I'm sure you don't, Norville." Maggie said as I began to dig in. "Anyways, Dad's off to work again, sounds like the case has been occupying him a lot lately."

"The Werewolf Case?" I asked, and Maggie nodded. "Man, this sure is getting crazy, isn't it?"

"Won't I know it, Norville." Maggie agreed. "Especially when there's this werewolf out there snatching girls from the streets."

"Just another reason why I never go out alone at night, Mags." I nodded. "After all, you need to be under a moon in order to transform into a werewolf."

"Anyways." Maggie said as she took a sip of her glass of water. "Moving on, how's your arm?"

I glanced at my left arm as Mags made the remark, and then I nodded at her. "Swell, Mags. Nothing the painkillers couldn't handle."

"You do know that you're supposed to only take two pills each day, right?" Maggie narrowed her eyes, and I was getting rather uncomfortable with the tone in her voice.

"Uh...of course I do, Mags." I quickly said. "What...makes you think I'm taking more than two a day?"

"Just a hunch." Maggie replied. "You've complained that the prescribed amount of two pills per day didn't do much to mitigate the pain, and I've noticed that you've been using your left arm more frequently than early on following your surgery."

I winced. "Like, I've been feeling better lately, Mags. There's no reason why I would take more than two pills at a time everyday."

"Sure, if you say so." Maggie shrugged. "I'm just warning that if you keep taking more than two pills a day, I'm afraid that Dad's gonna have you check into rehab, because I know those pills. They can be addictive, and trust me, if you don't admit that you've got a problem, then you're gonna have an overdose, and when that happens..."

Maggie stopped herself as she looked at me in the eye, and noticing the emotions welling in her eyes, I immediately reached over to gently touch her hair.

"It won't happen, Mags." I quickly said. "Like, you and Pops came close to losing me in that accident, and there's no way I intend to repeat just that with the painkillers."

* * *

Let me get down to the background setting before I dive into the rest of my day.

My family and I live in Coolsville, which is the largest city and county seat of Crystal Cove County, though we are not natives of the city.

To dive into me and Mags' background, it is necessary for me to introduce my parents.

My father is Samuel Chastain Rogers, and he's a cop. However, like most of his peers at work, Dad had served in the military prior to becoming a police officer.

Born in New York in 1921, Dad grew up at a time when the so-called Great War was a recent memory, his own father having had returned home from the Western Front after being demobilized in 1919.

Like many of his peers, Dad was facing the draft after he graduated from high school in '39, though he decided to voluntarily enlist in the Marine Corps and was shipped off to boot camp on Parris Island for the seven-week training.

After the US entered the war in '41, Dad saw plenty of action overseas, particularly as a Marine Raider in the Pacific Theatre.

He eventually moved to inactive reserves as a sergeant following demobilization in '45, which is when he enrolled in college.

His four years of college eventually saw him returning to the Marines as a commissioned officer, where he went on to take on several more posts here and overseas before he decided to call it quits as a lieutenant colonel in '61.

To date, Dad didn't discuss much about his exploits as a Marine, though let's just say that many of the missions he was involved in were classified in nature, requiring special operations-type expertise and secrecy.

What I do know was that during his four years in inactive reserves, Dad joined the NYPD and got his badge in '47 after two years of training at the police academy, on top of his college studies in criminology.

In addition, it was during his posting in Korea that led Dad to Mom.

My mother was Wendy Amon, and she used to be a doctor.

At the time she first met Dad, Mom was working as a medical air evacuation nurse in the then-newly-created Air Force, and like Dad, Mom saw plenty of action, as an Air Force medic, during WWII in the Women's Army Corps.

Long story short, Mom and Dad got married while on leave from Korea in '52, and I was born in New York the following year on April 27th.

It was also in that year that Mom was discharged from the Air Force as a captain, which was when she began working as a nurse in the Brooklyn Hospital.

Maggie followed two years later in '55, and then six years later, shortly after Dad's discharge from the Marines, we moved from New York to Coolsville after he received a transfer to the Coolsville Police Department as a detective.

Now, I'm sure you all have noticed that I've referred to Mom in past tense. There's a reason for that, and it also ties into the accident for which I've been experiencing continuous pain in my left arm, non-stop pain that was only mitigated by the painkillers I was prescribed to.

You see, shortly after we settled down in Coolsville, Mom and I got into a serious car accident while she was driving me to get my flu shots.

I wasn't exactly sure what the on earth happened that fateful day, as everything happened so fast. First thing, Mom was telling me about the importance of flu shots when I was expressing reluctance to get the shots, given my fear of needles, then next thing you know, our car got slammed at the side and flipped over.

What I do remember from the accident was the lingering pain that shot up my left arm when I woke up in the General Hospital, as well as Dad telling me that Mom wasn't gonna be coming back home.

It took me a while to understand what Dad meant, but eventually, I figured it out.

Mom was killed in the impact of the car accident, and it was something that made me felt that had I agreed to get my flu shots early on while we were in New York, Mom wouldn't have died.

I still had nightmares from that fateful day, and let's just say that it didn't help with the fact that there were complications from my surgery, hence the need for me to take painkillers just so that I could get rid of the lingering pain in my left arm.

* * *

After breakfast, it was my turn to take Scooby out for a walk while Maggie does the dishes.

If you're worrying about the time, then don't worry. We never take Scoob out for a long walk, and besides, I need the walk to make my stomach feel better after breakfast, not to mention that we still got 30 minutes before the bus shows up.

It was the usual morning breeze that Scoob and I encountered during the walk, though it was sure cloudy up there in the sky.

From what I heard on the radio last night, they're calling for heavy rain today, and the rumbling clouds in the distance, coupled with the distance thunder, confirms just that.

Knowing that it's gonna start pouring any minute, I decided to take Scoob out on a shorter walk.

As we walked past a storm drain, Scoob decided to stop by it and sniff the cover.

Normally, I wouldn't mind him sniffing around, but with the wind picking up speed, I need Scoob to keep moving.

"Like, come on, Scoob." I said to Scoob as I tugged him gently on the leash. "We gotta keep moving if we wanna stay dry."

Scoob whined in response, and I tugged him a couple more times.

"Come on, man." I said. "We don't have all morning."

Scoob whined as he turned towards me, then I knelt down.

"What's the matter, buddy?" I asked. "Something in the storm drain?"

Scooby turned towards the cover, and then his eyes darted towards me.

I took a closer look at the storm drain, and then I turned towards Scooby.

"Like, there's nothing special in there, Scoob." I said. "It's not like there's gonna be a murderous clown hiding in there with a red balloon."

As Scooby whined, the thunder in the distance roared again, and I tugged Scooby by the collar once more.

"Now come on." I said as Scooby reluctantly joined me. "We need to get home before it starts pouring."

* * *

Turns out I was right about the rain. Not long after Scoob and I got home, it started pouring down hard, and by the time the school bus pulled into the stop, our umbrellas weren't enough to shield us from the pouring rain.

At least Mags and I weren't soaked wet from the sudden downpour, though the same can't be said about the guys that got on the bus later.

Either way, much of the bus ride was largely uneventful, except for the ten minutes we spent stuck in a traffic jam on Constitution Parkway, owing to a traffic accident up ahead at the intersection with Virginia Avenue.

We got a better look at the source of the traffic jam as the bus was directed to cross Virginia Avenue by a cop directing traffic. The scene sure looked quite nasty, especially with the tractor trailer reducing two cars it has collided with into mere scrap iron.

Anyways, it was 7:15 when the school bus pulled into the main entrance of Coolsville Central High School, and everyone promptly picked up their bags and made their way off the bus.

One thing to note is that while Mags and I don't attend Central High together, her school, Riverwood Middle School, is located just next door to Central High, hence the reason why she and I were on the same school bus.

Once I made my way through the school main entrance, I went through my usual routine before heading for my History class in first period.

Honestly, history class is one of the most boring classes I've ever took, and if the course wasn't compulsory for me to take, then I would've chosen another class.

At least my Music class in second period is much more interesting, particularly with my practicing the guitar and piano for class and getting to play a number of interesting pieces.

Either way, after lunch period comes my Civics class in third period, and then my school day is rounded out by Chemistry class in fourth period.

While I find Civics class to be particularly boring, I do find the topics on aspects of politics, particularly our rights as citizens, elections and the political spectrum to be intriguing.

Now, I'm not really a religious follower of politics, though with the ongoing nation-wide anti-war protests in opposition to our involvement in the ongoing war in Vietnam, it's really hard not to ignore everything that was taught in civics class, especially when the upcoming elections in November enters the picture.

And from what I've heard in the news, the upcoming elections itself have a number of backdrops that makes the year itself tumultuous.

In addition to the nation-wide anti-Vietnam War protests, you've also got the assassinations of a major leader in the civil rights movement this past April and the attorney general that was a leading party candidate who was the brother of a president that was himself assassinated in '63.

Further adding to this mess is a certain Governor of Alabama contesting the election as a third-party candidate, campaigning in favour of reinstating racial segregation under a doctrine known as "Separate but equal".

In all honesty, I fail to see the logic of racial segregation, especially the need to judge one simply by the colour of his/her skin.

I especially scratch my head at the doctrine of "separate but equal" that was cited as the reasons behind racial segregation. All in all, in theory, from what I understand, black people attend separate institutions from white people like me and use separate utilities and live in different housing communities and should be well-equipped for the necessities of everyday life.

However, from what I've heard from a few friends, a number of black schools are, if anything, well-equipped for teaching the skills and knowledge needed for eventually entering the workforce.

Public water fountains catered to coloured people, if anything, rarely work and often looks worn-out, whereas the water fountains white people use often look more shiny, well-maintained and modern by comparison.

Come to think of it, it's my belief that the end goal of racial segregation was purposefully denying coloured people, especially blacks, the same opportunities as white people in order to reinforce the negative stereotypes of black people and other coloured groups and further justify this obviously discriminatory policy.

It was times like this that make me thankful that I've never resided in the southern states while growing up, even though as a white guy, I wouldn't be subjected to these discriminatory policies, though I could certainly land myself in trouble if I stand up for those that couldn't stand up for themselves.

With all of this mess going on, it sure makes me wonder what this world is coming to nowadays.

* * *

Lunch period came at the usual time of 10:30 for me, and as per my usual routine, I went over to the usual table with the guys.

However, on my way over to the table, I heard a familiar angry voice calling out, "Hey!"

With an exhale, I decided to turn around towards the source of that angry voice. Big mistake.

Standing opposite to me stood Frederick "Fred" Jones and his pals from the school football team, one of whom being Randolph "Red" Herring, the school bully, and judging the look on Fred's face, he sure look pissed as he glared at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't you play dumb with us, Rogers." Red said as Fred grabbed me by the collar. "We know what you did."

"Did what?" I arched my eyebrows.

"Maybe you should consider getting a better brain, Rogers." Fred said. "You wouldn't happen to know how Troy Drake gotten his hands onto those painkillers you seem to be taking on a daily basis last Friday, do you?"

Troy Drake is the quarterback on the school football team and is in a couple of my classes. He gives me an impression of not exactly being the brightest tool in the shed, though, not to mention being quite the trouble maker who has seems to be a regular resident of detention.

"Wouldn't know a thing, Jones." I shook my head. "First off, I need those painkillers to stop the lingering pain in my left arm, and second off, I've never brought my painkiller pill bottle to school for exactly this reason."

Wrong answer, because next thing you know, Fred slammed me right into the nearby wall.

"Bulls**t, Rogers." Fred growled at me. "You know d**n well that Troy and painkillers aren't a good mix, because he was seeing things and screwin' around the field during practice last Friday."

"Needless to say, Coach Clay made it clear that unless we take care of the pill problem, we can kiss this years championships goodbye." Red added.

"Like, you got any evidence that I brought my pill bottle to school last Friday?" I challenged them.

"The fact that you're always this hippie-type that doesn't seem to be able to distinguish between his left and right feet is enough evidence that you've always got painkillers on your person." Fred retorted.

"Yeah." Red agreed. "Perhaps you should get off those painkillers before you start seeing bigger things that makes you think that the school's being attacked by Communists."

I simply huffed in defiance, and Fred narrowed his eyes as he leaned closer to my face.

"Let me say this only once, Rogers." The blonde gritted his teeth. "Either you lock your pills up at home properly or I will go to Principal Deedle and see to it that you get suspended or even expelled for bringing controlled substances to school. Understood?"

I only stared at him blankly, though glancing at Red pounding his fist on his left hand, all I could do was to sigh and nod.

"Good." Fred glared before he grabbed me by the collar once again and shoved me aside. "Now beat it!"

As I hastily picked up my pace and moved out, Fred and his gang turned around and saw a group of other students staring.

Although I didn't look back, I'm pretty sure that Red had the usual annoyed look on his face as he barked, "What the h*ll are you guys lookin' at?"

It's barely even noontime and already, this is turning out to be just another lousy Monday at school for me.

* * *

**Happy 50th Scooby-Doo Anniversary, folks!**

**Please read and review!**


	2. At the radio station

Chapter 2: At the radio station

**(Third Person)**

Shortly after finishing their lunch, Fred and his friends were at their lockers talking about football and other stuff.

"So I told Troy, 'Either you get your s**t together or you can expect a ball kick right into your balls!'" Red was saying, and the group all laughed.

"Oh, man." Ethan laughed as well. "Troy's quite the wimp, isn't he?"

"You can say that again, Ethan." Dylan nodded. "I really wonder what in G**'s name could've possessed Coach Clay in bringing in that d**chebag and made him our quarterback."

"Who cares." Gary shrugged. "Point is, he really needs to get his s**t together before the next game against Crystal Cove."

In mentioning Crystal Cove, Gary was referring to the school's crosstown rival Crystal Cove High School, a school in which Coolsville Central High School has been fierce and intense rivals with.

The rivalry dates back to when Coolsville Central High School was established in its current location as an offshot of the rapidly-expanding Crystal Cove Education Institute in 1925.

At the time, the Crystal Cove Education Institute, since renamed as Crystal Cove High School, was located at what was then the heart of Coolsville, though the opening of Coolsville Central High School changed the city's dynamic and resulted in much of the urban activity shifting away from the city's East End, where Crystal Cove High School is located at.

"Not to mention that he needs to know that the team's gettin' real sick of cleaning up after his s**t during practice." Fred agreed.

"Tell me about it, Fred." Red nodded. "Still a mystery regarding how does Troy's mind work."

"One thing for sure is that he doesn't have much of a mind left when you throw in that Rogers boy's painkillers into the mix." Dylan said.

"Oh, yeah, that guy's an even bigger loser." Gary said. "Always takin' those painkillers just to get around, clearly he's quite the nincompoop that's afraid of gettin' hurt."

"Don't remind me." Fred said. "That guy needs to get his s**t together before it becomes a problem at school."

"You think he can get charged for possession of controlled substances?" Dylan asked.

"Will have to check with my Dad at the DA's office on that, though as far as I know, there are some sections of the law that he could be running afoul of should he be using them on school property." Fred shrugged.

It was then that the school bell rang, and the boys promptly finished up and slammed their locker doors shut.

* * *

Eventually, the end of day school bell rang, and all of the students in their classrooms picked up their stuff and rushed to their lockers.

14-year old Velma Dinkley find herself having to struggle her way through the crowded hallways as she searched for her locker, and she frowned when she arrived.

As usual, the number of students at the row of lockers was large enough that the student to her right would often open his locker door and cover her locker door in the process.

Holding her textbooks and notebooks, Velma waited patiently as the student went through his stuff before he picked up his school bag, skateboard and jacket and closed the locker door.

As he picked up the skateboard, the student turned towards her and said, "Sorry for letting you wait, Velma."

"No, no, it's okay, Jason." Velma shrugged. "See you tomorrow at Chem."

"Yeah, see you." Jason nodded before he turned around and took his leave.

Once Jason was out of the way, Velma stepped forward and worked on the combination lock.

Unlike most of the students rushing through the hallway, Velma is not in a rush to catch the school bus, nor is she waiting for her parents to come pick her up at school.

Both of her parents were busy at work. Her father Steve, who had served in the Navy during the war and in Korea, works as an electrical engineer and electronics researcher at Quest Research Laboratories while her mother Cassandra works as a human computer for NASA at the Ames Research Center.

Typically, when it comes to her finishing school, Velma usually takes the school bus, though for selected days during the week, she takes the late bus once she finishes taking part in the school's Science Club.

After grabbing a notebook, her lab coat and a pair safety glasses, Velma slammed the locker door shut and made her way to the chemistry classroom down the hallway.

When she arrived at the classroom, several other students in the school's Science Club were already at their tables.

She recognized her friends Eric Staufer, Bill McLemore and Diana "Dee Dee" Skyes at one of the tables, and she promptly walked over to the table and joined them.

"Hey Velma." Dee Dee said in greeting.

"Hey Dee Dee." Velma greeted back. "How's your day?"

"Can't complain." Dee Dee shrugged. "You know, Mondays."

"I know the feeling." Velma nodded just as the classroom door opened, and in came James McDabble and Emmanuel Raffalo, the chemistry teachers responsible for organizing the science club and enrolling them into the annual state science fair.

Immediately, everyone in the classroom turned towards the front of the lab just as McDabble and Raffalo placed their notes on the front desk.

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the Coolsville Gazette building located several blocks away in downtown Coolsville, 15-year old Daphne Blake was preparing for an interview at the radio station.

The redhead is currently interning at the Coolsville Gazette newspaper, often helping out with editing news articles and jot down additional notes while taking part in interviews with her colleagues.

For the youngest Blake daughter, the internship provides an exposure to the world of journalism, which is a field she has expressed interest in going into, especially as she absorbs the practices and learn about asking tough questions to persons of authority, namely politicians.

This interview will be the very first interview in which Daphne will be conducting solo, and it was something that she takes deeply in stride.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, Daphne took the time to adjust her hair and her green scarf, which matches the purple dress and pink heeled shoes she was wearing.

Coming from one of the most wealthiest and most high-profile families in Coolsville, Daphne has felt a great weight of expectation weighing down on her shoulders.

Her father George Nedley Robert Blake is a businessman and entrepreneur who is the owner of the city's largest employer in the private sector, Blake Enterprises.

George started the company shortly after he was discharged from the United States Marine Corps as a Technical Sergeant in 1947 following 15 years of service, where his expertise in logistics and experience as a quartermaster proved crucial in the growth of his business.

Blake Enterprises initially started out as a defense contractor, producing firearms and functions as a major private security contractor.

The company has since shifted its portfolio to weapons manufacturing, logistics support, chemical research and biomedical research.

Blake Enterprises has recently opened up an agricultural research branch in Texas and acquired a couple of ranches, the branch devoted to raising livestock and growing crops.

One thing to note was that prior to getting shipped off to war, George had met and fell in love with Elizabeth, who is a high school sweetheart of his, and he had promised Elizabeth that he will marry her when he returns home from the war.

A year after he and Elizabeth got married and settled down in Coolsville in 1946, she gave birth to a set of twins.

Born in 1947, Donna Blake is the first born in the set of twins, and as the eldest daughter, she frequently comes to the defense of her younger siblings, particularly Daphne, who she considers as the baby in the family.

At present, Donna's interning at NASA as an aerospace engineer, an internship that saw her posted to the Langley Research Center in Virginia, where she's assigned to the group of design engineers involved in the Apollo space project.

Daisy Blake is the second born in the set of twins, where in her third year of studies at medical school, she's striving to become a doctor, where at present, she is interning at the Coolsville General Hospital.

Two years went by before the twins were followed by the birth of Delilah Blake in 1949, who is in her second year of studies at Darrow University, though it is also worth noting that she has also enrolled in the university's Naval Reserve Officers' Training Corps program under the Marine Option.

Daphne has at times wondered what could have possessed her third oldest sister in joining the military, considering the public protests in opposition to involvement in the ongoing Vietnam War.

Anyways, Daisy was then followed by another set of twins two years later in 1951.

Dorothy Blake was the first born of this second set of twins. At the age of 17, she is currently in her senior year at Coolsville Central High School and has aspirations to become a mechanical engineer.

Also in her senior year at Coolsville Central High School is Dawn Blake, who aspires to become an opera soprano someday.

Considering the fact that all of her sisters have high ambitions, it's natural for Daphne to feel a great deal of expectation weighing down onto her shoulders.

"Daphne, you okay?" A voice shattered Daphne out of her thoughts, and the redhead promptly turned towards the source.

It was the newspaper's editor-in-chief Patrick Cooper, who was on his way back to his office with a mug of coffee in hand and smoking his usual cigars.

Immediately, Daphne's cheeks flushed. "Y-yes, Mr. Cooper. I was just...thinking about the assignment."

"You sure you don't need Martha to go with you?" Cooper asked.

Daphne immediately shook her head. "No, I've got it covered, Mr. Cooper. I'm just...making sure that I've got everything I needed."

"Alright." Mr. Cooper nodded. "You know what to do."

Daphne nodded back before she glanced at her wristwatch and said, "Then, I best be off now."

* * *

In that same time, Shaggy was making his way to the radio station as he always does everyday after school.

One thing to note is that Shaggy has been volunteering at the local radio station, where he frequently contributes to the radio programs, such as providing music pieces, producing sound effects over the mic and making suggestions to aspects of the radio programs.

The radio presenters at the station deeply enjoyed his company, and they've let him onto the mic on a few occasions.

When he arrived at the radio station, the main presenter, Cameron Kasem, was at the break room with a mug of coffee in hand.

"Afternoon, Shaggy." Kasem said to Shaggy in greeting.

"Like, afternoon, Mr. Kasem." Shaggy greeted back. "How's it going?"

"It's going, Shaggy." Kasem replied. "Just getting ready for the interview with someone from the Gazette regarding the new program the station's gonna launch starting next Monday, the one you've been of great asset in putting together."

"Right, right." Shaggy nodded thoughtfully. "The one where you and I are gonna have a 'Whose Voice is that?' quiz now and then during the course of the program."

"Exactly." Kasem smiled. "Considering your voice being very close to mine, it's going to take plenty of tries for the audience to tell the difference between me and 'Coolsville's Swingingest'."

Shaggy nodded again as Kasem mentioned his call sign over the radio, a call sign christened by the fact that his primary interest, in addition to pop and rock, was swing music.

In fact, one of Shaggy's feats at the station was organizing a Friday afternoon party program that makes use of a lot of swing music, particularly Benny Goodman's rendition of _Sing, Sing, Sing._

As Shaggy and Kasem made their way towards the broadcasting booth, they stopped by the mail room to check for mail.

It was a small pile of mail as per usual on Mondays, with the addition of a few campaign brochures.

Shaggy reached into the small pile and picked up one particular brochure.

It was issued by the campaign office of State Senator Bartemius "Barty" Daggett, the incumbent State Senator representing Coolsville's State Senate district and is running to represent California's 3rd Congressional District, a district that encompasses the entirety of Coolsville and Crystal Cove County, in the upcoming elections.

**(Note: Bartemius "Barty" Daggett is a retconned version of Barty Blake from SDMI.)**

The brochure basically summarized Daggett's main campaign promises, namely lowered taxes, advocate for a new Interstate Highway linking Coolsville to the San Francisco Bay Area and enhancing American involvement in the ongoing war in Vietnam.

Shaggy almost scoffed in disgust as he scanned the list of campaign promises outlined in the brochure, during which Kasem turned towards him.

"You seem like you've got an issue with the state senator running for Congress, Shaggy." Kasem remarked.

"Like, civics may not be my most favourite class, but I know enough from class to know how deeply Daggett is full of it." Shaggy replied.

Kasem nodded in agreement as he and Shaggy grabbed the pile and continued on to the broadcasting booth.

"Dalton, David?" Kasem called out as he held the mail and brochure. "There's some mail for you guys, plus plenty of election campaign brochures."

When they arrived at the broadcasting room, Dalton Messick and David Butler were waiting for them.

As Kasem handed their mail to them, he asked, "Do you guys need any of the election brochures?"

While Kasem was making the remark, Shaggy held up the brochures he had separated from the pile of mail.

Glancing at the brochures, Messick shook his head.

"Nah." He said. "I've already got plenty of those at home, and I've always treated them the same way I've treated those pesky ads we tend to receive in the mail."

Shaggy lips formed into a light smile as he understood what Messick meant, during which Butler nodded in agreement.

"Same here." Butler nodded.

"Alright, then." Kasem nodded back as Shaggy tossed the election campaign brochures into the nearby garbage bin. "Then it's safe to say that we can just throw them into the garbage bin."

"Already did." Shaggy said.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Daphne's interview at the radio station was winding down as the redhead, Kasem and Shaggy discusses the new radio program and various high points of Kasem's radio and voice-acting career.

During the interview, Daphne had pointed out just how much did Kasem's voice sounded like Shaggy's, and noting how Shaggy was able to shift his voice pitch and make himself sound just like Kasem.

Eventually, she finished up her interview and was ready to head back to the Gazette building.

"Before I head out, Mr. Kasem, could you tell me where the washroom is?" Daphne asked as Shaggy got up from his seat and went to grab a glass of water from the water fountain.

"Of course." Kasem replied as he led Daphne to the hallway. "It's just down the hallway, turn right at the vending machines and the washroom is to your right."

"Perfect, thanks." Daphne smiled before she took her leave.

A short while later, Shaggy was standing at the vending machine and was pondering what to get for a snack as he reached into his pocket for change.

"You know, I'm quite surprised that a slacker like you would have so much talent in radio." A voice suddenly said, and Shaggy jumped before turning around.

Daphne was standing right behind him with her purse in hand, and she was looking at him quizzically.

"Miss Blake." Shaggy said as he quickly moved out of the way. "Like, sorry for-"

"You can save your apology until later." Daphne cut in. "What I would like to know is that how is it that you were able to make it here when you don't seem to be achieving anything at school."

Shaggy glanced down the hallway through his peripheral vision, noticing that there was no one else down the hallway.

"Are you talking about my involvement here in the radio station?" Shaggy asked.

"Of course I'm talking about that, Captain Obvious." Daphne immediately replied harshly. "Are you implying that-"

"I'm not implying anything." Shaggy immediately cut in. "This is mainly a volunteer thing that I-"

"Perhaps you should avoid cutting into my sentences before I finish." Daphne said as she folded her arms. "What I was asking was that were you paying attention to my earlier question on how you came to be here in the radio station?"

"Perhaps I wanted to clarify what you mean when you asked that question." Shaggy placed his hands on his hips. "It wasn't straight forward enough for me to understand and answer straightly."

"Huh. You just proved my point." Daphne said.

"What point?" Shaggy asked.

"If you hadn't cut in earlier, you would've know what was the point I was trying to make." Daphne said. "Namely your implying that you know everything about journalism, especially with your volunteering here and many of us here in Coolsville listening to your radio shows."

Then, glaring at Shaggy, the redhead asked, "You really think you know everything about journalism or life in general?"

Shaggy only stared at her blankly before he asked, "Is this supposed to be a trick question? Because all these guys I work with, Mr. Kasem in particular, he's had plenty of experiences, especially from his time as a radio announcer and correspondent for American Forces Network while at Korea."

There was some silence between the two, and then Daphne nodded.

"Of course, you do learn from the best in the industry." She said, though one can tell that the tone of her voice wasn't exactly sincere. "I should have known better."

With a huff, Daphne then proceeded to turn and walk down the hallway, though a few steps went by before she stopped and turned around.

"You know, there's plenty of advice I thought you would like to take." Daphne said.

"What is it?" Shaggy asked.

"You ought to cut down on the over-the-counter meds you're taking, that way your brain would be functioning properly." Daphne said with her voice clipped. "And try to listen carefully before making a point or ask a question."

The redhead then turned away and continued on down the hallway, during which she continued, "Think about what I just said."

Shaggy only stood there wordlessly as he watched Daphne walk down the hallway to the main entrance door, then he scoffed and shook his head as she disappeared behind the closed door.

* * *

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	3. Meeting a new partner

Chapter 3: Meeting a new partner

Daphne huffed as she made her way back to the _Coolsville Gazette_ building, thinking about her encounter with Shaggy.

They are both students at Coolsville Central High School, though she never had any classes with the guy she just referred to as a "slacker".

Needless to say, the redhead has heard rumours floating around school regarding Shaggy, particularly on how he never stood out in classes and has made a habit of slacking off, not to mention his apparent drug use.

Daphne shook her head, still not sure how to make the fact that Shaggy seemed to be doing more at the radio station compared to what she does at the paper.

Heck, he's already did a couple of radio broadcasts solo whereas she just finished conducting her first solo interview.

She will never forget the double take she came close to making when she first saw him at the broadcast booth with Mr. Kasem, and she wondered how did he get to where he got when he never achieved much at school.

Perhaps he's got someone up there who was able to pull plenty of strings and land him the opportunity, though she also knew that many others would've (rightfully) point out that she got her internship at the _Coolsville Gazette _as a result of her father's connections.

Well, even then, Daphne has never used her family's reputation to get anything she wants. If anything, she felt the need to work _twice_ as hard as the average person in order to prove that she is capable of making achievements, connections or no connections.

Either way, on her way out of the radio station, Daphne noticed Barty Daggett's campaign brochure in the trash can, and she scoffed at the thought of her father's former business partner.

Barty has always been a likable figure in the Blakes social circles, especially as he made the move from business to politics.

Her father and him have frequently dined and wined together, and she often receives generous Christmas gifts from Barty every year.

Thinking back to her encounter with Shaggy, Daphne scoffed and shook her head.

He certainly look like the type that probably wouldn't mind living off the state, and the redhead didn't take much to figure that Shaggy was the one who threw Barty's campaign brochures into the garbage.

Barty, who's a self-described Joseph McCarthy and Barry Goldwater Republican, has been a proponent of small government and has come out in favour of tough on crime measures and increased military roles overseas, particularly in Vietnam.

Knowing how much Shaggy looked to be quite the slacker and her suspicion on him being the one who threw away Barty's campaign brochure, Daphne won't be surprised if he fits the profile of those anti-Vietnam War protesters.

Of course, Daphne herself has questioned Barty's leanings, especially given her role as a journalist questioning narrations set by politicians, though she can't wrap her head around exactly why so many people in Coolsville, especially young ones, dislike the state senator deeply.

After all, the current mayor of Coolsville, Francis Jones, also pretty much supports what Daggett proposes, especially increased involvement in the ongoing war in Vietnam, yet he doesn't seem to be receiving as much negative attention or publicity as State Senator Daggett.

**(Note: Francis Jones is a retcon of Fred Jones, Sr. from SDMI)**

The redhead decided to shrug those thoughts off as she arrived at the Coolsville Gazette building, and as she walked past the front desk, the scene shifted to the afternoon edition of the newspaper resting on the desk.

The headline of the newspaper simply read, "NOT AGAIN!

Nineteenth girl snatched from home with a wolf claw mark on wall, police still investigating"

* * *

It was a stormy afternoon at the cemetery as Lieutenant Samuel Chastain Rogers watched the funeral proceedings of a murder victim.

From a distance, the former Marine Raider can see that the victim's family was crying softly as they watched their beloved daughter getting buried.

Although Sam was used to scenes like this, scenes that comes with his work as a homicide detective, deep down he can't help but deeply sympathize with what the loved ones of the victim were thinking.

After all, he was in their position a several years ago when he had to bury his wife Wendy not long after he and the family moved from New York to Coolsville.

Thinking back to that moment, Sam simply lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes gently, during which a voice asked, "You got something to add, Lieutenant Rogers?"

Almost immediately, the scene shifted from the cemetery to the noisy detective squad room in the Coolsville Central building.

Sam was still rubbing his eyes from the exhaustion of the days events, namely with him and his two-person task force chasing down leads in the latest development of the "Killer Werewolf" case.

The latest development in question was the disappearance of 17-year old Amanda Smythe, who disappeared from her home shortly after she returned from school.

When her parents returned home, they were puzzled by how empty the house was, and then they became alarmed when several claw marks were seen on the living room coffee table.

Sam led his task force in combing through the scene when they received the call, and the lieutenant could only sigh in frustration as he can hear his two men discussing aspects of the case.

"I really don't like this at all, Walt." One of his two investigators, who he knew was Detective Beau Neville, can be heard saying. "Not at all."

"No need to remind me, Beau." The second investigator, who he knew was Detective Walter Claphammer, replied. "How long do you suppose it's gonna take forensics to process those claws from the scene in the lab?"

"Two days, Walt." Neville replied, and Sam can hear the frustration in his voice and imagine him holding up two fingers with his hand. "Two days, which is too _**d*mn**_ long for Ch**st's sake!"

"That's an understatement, Beau." Claphammer agreed. "We don't have two days to wait for the f**king forensic analysis to be complete. During those two f**king days, who's gonna be next?"

Sam only frowned as Claphammer continued, "Who, who, who?"

"You don't need to sound like an owl, Walt." Neville said.

Sam can only groan as he heard Neville's remark and glanced around the squad room. With the other detectives busy work on cases of their own, he can sure feel the squeeze on his eight homicide guys.

Being a supervisor of 27 detectives at the Central Division of the Coolsville Police Department, Sam has find himself having to juggle his managerial and supervisory duties, on top of personally leading the task force in investigating the Killer Werewolf case.

He knew that having him and two guys dedicated to the high profile case won't be enough, considering his other duties, and he figured that he could use a third investigator on his task force.

However, with the division's detective bureau short-staffed due to court appearances or sick leave, Sam knew that unless he gets a new detective, either through an officer passing his detective's test and getting promoted from patrol or a new transfer from another department, his task force won't be making much progress in the case at this pace.

Of course, the FBI field office in San Francisco had offered to take over the case and rid him of the pressure, but the chief of police had said no to the SAC, considering the embarrassment of the department having to give up jurisdiction of a local case to the feds.

Sam personally doesn't blame the chief for rejecting the FBI's offer, but he also knew that the chief was just contributing to the problem with his interest in appearing on the six o'clock news instead of being at roll calls.

It was then that a familiar voice shattered his thoughts. "Hey Dad!"

Sam put his glasses back on as he turned around, pausing when he spotted his daughter Maggie standing by his desk with a lunch bag in hand.

"Margaret?" Sam faced his daughter and frowned as she approached him. "How many times do I have to tell you, _**not** _to come to the station after dark on a school night?"

"Sorry, Dad." Maggie replied as she handed him the lunch bag and added, "You forgot your dinner."

"I wasn't hungry." Sam said.

"It's lasagna, made using Mom's recipe." Maggie said.

The mood on Sam's face brightened slightly at the last remark, and he silently watched his daughter place the lunch box on his desk.

"I'll drive you home." Sam then said to his daughter, but before she could reply, someone called him.

"Lieutenant!" One of the detectives called, and Sam turned around.

"What is it, Wilkinson?" He asked.

"Captain wants to see you, ASAP." Wilkinson replied.

At that, Sam turned around towards his daughter and said, "I'm driving you home."

"You don't need to, Dad." Maggie said. "I'm taking the bus."

"No, you're not, Margaret." Sam said sternly. "I'm-"

"I can take care of myself, Dad." Maggie cut in before the lieutenant can finish. "It's not like I didn't grow up here in Coolsville."

Sam sighed before raising his index finger and said sternly, "Make this the _**last**_ time you come here, Margaret. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Dad." Maggie nodded understandingly as she leaned forward to kiss her father in the forehead.

As his daughter turned and made her way out of the station, Sam got out of his office and made his way towards the office of Captain Bucky Clapton, the station's commanding officer.

When he arrived at the office, he knocked on the door, and Bucky looked up from his paperwork.

"You need to see me, Captain?" Sam asked in greeting.

Bucky immediately beckoned him in as he took off his reading glasses, and as Sam entered the office, he saw that Bucky was accompanied by an East Asian man dressed in a suit.

"Lieutenant, I'm sure you know much the stakes has risen in the Killer Werewolf case recently." Bucky began. "Stakes that I'm sure you and your task force wouldn't be able to handle well at your current staffing level."

"Of course not, Cap." Sam nodded.

"Then, you will be pleased to know that I've decided to add an extra man into your task force, and a guy with his experience will sure as h*ll be able to provide the much-needed relief you need." Bucky continued before gesturing at the man and added, "May I introduce you Detective Charles 'Charlie' Chan."

Sam raised his eyebrows briefly as he turned towards Chan, during which Bucky continued, "Detective Chan is a twenty-year veteran of the Honolulu Police Department, and his fifteen years of experience at the homicide table with a brief stint in Five-O sums up a very impressive record."

Sam nodded thoughtfully before he extended his hand towards Chan and said, "A pleasure to be of acquaintance with you, Detective."

"Likewise, Lieutenant." Chan nodded as he shook Sam's offered hand, and the lieutenant can detect a trace of a Cantonese accent in his voice.

As the two men finished their handshake, Bucky continued, "With Detective Chan's record, I'm positive that he can provide a fresh view on your ongoing Killer Werewolf case and much-needed relief on you, Claphammer and Neville."

"That's right." Chan said. "I was born and grew up in Hong Kong before my family and I moved to Honolulu to escape the invasion in Far East. After getting demobilized, I joined the Honolulu Police Department, and as the captain said, I spent fifteen years working homicide in a place with all of the beautiful beaches, paradise and beautiful girls."

Sam was silent before he remarked under his breath, "Who in their right mind would wanna transfer to a h*llhole like Coolsville?"

"I figured that I was getting bored with my life at Honolulu, and seeing that Coolsville is in serious need for homicide detectives, I grabbed my chance for a challenge and made the transfer, Lieutenant." Chan continued. "In fact, there's one major case I would like to get my hands onto and solve here in Coolsville."

"And what's the case?" Sam asked.

"The unsolved murders of Vincent and Rebecca Crown." Chan replied, and Sam and Clapton both arched their eyebrows as they glanced at each other.

Chan was referring to the unsolved 1952 murders of Vincent and Rebecca Crown, a wealthy couple who were shot dead one fateful night while accompanying their seven-year old son Radley on their way home from the movies in an apparent mugging gone wrong.

Police response was swift, and considering the fact that Vincent Crown was a high profile candidate running for mayor at the time, there was high publicity surrounding the investigation itself.

In spite of that, no one was arrested for the terrible crime, and in the years since then, Crystal Dale, the neighbourhood in which the fateful mugging took place at, became widely-known as Mugging Dale.

The new name christened to Crystal Dale also coincided with the white flight that followed the state forcefully ordering Crystal Cove County, one of the most conservative areas in the state and one that embraced the Deep South-style segregation in public housing, to desegregate housing.

With much of the attention turned away from the neighbourhood to the more-wealthy suburbs when it comes to urban planning and investments in public services, Crystal Dale certainly has seen a sharp decline as the average income in the neighbourhood dropped sharply.

The decline in itself also came as the major factories in the area decided that moving to the suburbs closer to where the highways were was more profitable and efficient, effectively leaving the neighbourhood with no source of employment.

Anyways, in the days that followed the murder of the Crowns, there was massive speculation that Vincent's opponent in the mayoral race, the then-incumbent Mayor Jefferson Dudley, may have had a hand in arranging the fatal mugging that claimed the lives of the Crowns.

The differences between Vincent Crown and Jefferson Dudley couldn't have been more different, even though they shared the same party affiliation.

For one, Vincent Crown was a supporter of the more moderate-progressive wing of the party, having had endorsed Thomas Dewey to run for the party's presidential nomination, plus the businessman was a vocal critic of segregation laws and deeply sympathized with racial equality movements.

Crown was also very humble, his family continued to live in their modest house in spite of their great wealth, and his wife Rebecca was deeply involved in causes to advance education and opportunities to those that are not well off.

By contrast, Dudley identifies himself as being closely aligned with Joseph McCarthy and considered desegregation as part of a "communist plot", and the then-mayor has faced accusations of unfairly allowing business interests closely aligned with him to benefit on municipal contracts, particularly on public housing.

Many of Dudley's wrongs as mayor were pointed out by Vincent Crown in his election campaign, wrongs which Vincent have promised to right when he gets elected as mayor.

Vincent was deeply popular with voters, and dozens of polls have suggested that he would've won the election in a landslide.

Needless to say, following Dudley's successful re-election, speculation on his involvement in arrange the murders of the Crowns only increased.

Of course, in spite of the mounting speculation, Dudley was able to weather a lot of the storm, owing to the lack of evidence supporting the speculation, not to mention that he was a skilled speaker and was always successful in persuading voters with his speeches.

Dudley will eventually went on to serve a few more terms in office before forcing to withdraw from the 1960 race owing to poor health, where he was subsequently succeeded by his then-chief of staff, former Councilman Henry Iverson who has stayed on the role to this day.

"Huh." Sam only grunted as he and Chan left the captain's office.

Claphammer and Neville were at their desks pondering what to do next when they spotted the lieutenant returning to his office accompanied by Chan.

Upon seeing the two detectives, Sam beckoned them to his office, and the duo immediately got up from their seats and joined them.

* * *

Shortly after he introduced Chan to Claphammer and Neville, Sam asked the duo to bring Chan up to speed on the case before dismissing them.

As he watched Chan, Claphammer and Neville heading towards the latter's desk through the glass window, Sam grunted before he turned around, stopping as he spotted a black and white photo on his desk.

It was a photo of him and Wendy, both in their service dress uniforms, posing at the "Welcome to Coolsville" sign.

Sam remembered the occasion the photo was captured. He and Wendy were on shore leave from Korea in 1952 when they happened upon Coolsville, which is also where he proposed to her and she said yes.

The lieutenant felt his heart pounding at its usual rhythm as he saw the date June 29th, 1952 on the back of the photo.

Not only was that photo captured that day, it was also that day that left him a deep impression of the true character of Coolsville: A true character that hides behind the wealthy and prosperous growing 1950s façade of the city.

Because June 29th, 1952 was also the day that Vincent and Rebecca Crown were murdered.

* * *

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	4. A mugging and some shady going-ons

Chapter 4: A mugging and some shady going-ons

A short while later, Sam was on his way out of his office when Neville, Claphammer and Chan approached him.

"What?" Sam asked as he was halfway closing his office door.

"Lieutenant, you heading out?" Neville asked.

"Got a meeting to attend." Sam replied as he raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Will it be possible for you to take Chan out with you, Lieutenant?" Claphammer asked. "I just got a call from Assistant DA Jones, it's about the Wilson Case and he needs me to meet up with him, prompto."

"Right, right." Sam nodded as he recalled details of the Wilson Case before turning towards Neville and asked, "You going with Claphammer, Neville?"

"I've got an appointment with the FBI profiler I've consulted for the case, Lieutenant." Neville shook his head. "You know how bad traffic is right now and I'm sure that Chan needs to be shown around Coolsville."

"Hmm." Sam only grunted in reply, and the three detectives glanced at him.

Finally, the lieutenant nodded and said, "Very well, then. Be sure to have a summary of what you've got written up and left on my desk when you come back."

"Of course, Lieutenant." Neville nodded before he and Claphammer took their leaves, leaving Chan with Sam.

Sam then turned towards Chan and beckoned him towards the hallway. "Follow me, Chan."

* * *

A short while later, Sam was driving Chan through the evening streets of Coolsville.

"So you were young when you and your family fled Hong Kong in '41, eh?" Sam prompted.

"Yes, I was a teenager at that time." Chan nodded. "We got relatives living in Honolulu, and so we settled there, where I've finished high school before enlisting in '43."

"What branch?" Sam asked.

"Navy." Chan replied. "Wasn't as progressive as I would like to think, but I made it through and eventually discharged as a lieutenant (JG) at demobilization in '48."

"Which is when you've joined the police department." Sam said.

"Exactly." Chan nodded.

"Hmm." Sam grunted as they stopped at a red light, during which Chan noticed something at the nearby dark alleyway from Sam's side of the car.

"Oh, look." He said, pointing at what appeared to be a mugging in progress. "First night in Coolsville and we're about to get our first bit of action."

What Chan saw was a muscular-looking man with tattoos holding a knife by a woman's neck and demanding something.

"Either you pay, or you get hurt!" The man snarled to the woman.

"We can't stop." Sam said, completely obvious to the situation Chan was referring to in the nearby dark alleyway. "I forgot to mention that I was running late for the meeting."

"What meeting, Lieutenant?" Chan asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice.

"A security meeting." Sam replied. "It's about providing security detail for State Senator Barty Daggett, who's running for Congress and has received ruffled a lot of feathers in the course of his business and political career, and the mayor and the police chief are also going to be there."

"There's a crime in progress, Lieutenant." Chan said.

"It's not our business, Chan." Sam replied.

"What?! Not our business?!" Chan exclaimed.

Chan's tone of disbelief became more pronounced as he made the last remark. He couldn't believe that being late for a meeting concerning some politician will be more important than stopping a random street crime.

"Orders came from the chief, Chan." Sam warned. "The state senator's a supporter of the mayor, and any move against him is a move against the mayor and the chief, so unless you wanna save your badge, I recommend that-"

As Sam was speaking, the light turned green and he pressed on the gas, and before he could finish, Chan decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Stop!" Chan shouted. "Stop the f**king car!"

Before Sam could comply, Chan opened the door and got off.

"Chan!" Sam shouted as he was forced to slam the brakes while Chan marched over to the dark alleyway.

"This is your last warning." The man growled. "Since you can't pay up, you should give me your purse. Either that, or I hurt you bad."

"S-s-stop..." The woman protested weakly.

Just then, the two heard someone shouting, "Hey!"

The man turned and saw Chan walking towards them, one hand holding his badge while the other reaches into his trench coat for his service weapon.

"Coolsville Police." Chan shouted at the man. "Put your hands in the air!"

The man turned towards Chan and his left hand formed into a fist while his right hand gripped the knife.

"Stupid move." The man said as he tried to punch Chan, who ducked.

"Look who's talking." Chan retorted as he countered with a punch in the man's stomach, causing him to drop the knife in pain.

Pressing the man against the nearby wall and preparing to handcuff him, Chan then added, "That wasn't a wise move, pal."

As that was happening, the woman took the opportunity to run off.

Catching a glimpse of the woman running off, Chan shouted, "Where are you going?! I need a statement from you!"

The woman ignored him as she carried on, causing Chan to exclaim, "I just saved your as-"

"Chan!" Sam shouted as he approached the struggling man and Chan.

"Help me cuff this a**hole." Chan said to him.

"Let him go." Sam said sternly.

"What?!" Chan turned to the lieutenant in disbelief.

"I said, let him go!" Sam shouted as he tugged Chan's trenchcoat.

"Are you f**king kidding me?" Chan exclaimed as he released the man before gesturing towards him and added. "Is this jacka** undercover? An informant?"

The man laughed as he adjusted his coat, and Sam immediately turned to him.

"I'm deeply sorry, Pistol." Sam said to him before gesturing at Chan and continued, "Detective Chan is new to Coolsville."

"I can see that, Rogers." Pistol snorted. "You'd better teach him the rules quick before another accident happens."

Sam only grunted in reply, and Pistol sneered as he turned away.

"What that b**ch owed me is coming from you, Rogers." Pistol continued as he walked away before turning towards Chan and continued, "And you better start f**king learn the rules of Coolsville, _**kid**_, or we'll see who's _**really** _stupid."

As they watched Pistol walk away, Chan turned towards the lieutenant and asked, "What the h*ll was that for, Lieutenant?"

"Just get in the car, Chan." Sam replied calmly.

"Is that f**ker greasing you, Lieutenant?" Chan demanded.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Sam responded. "Get in the _**d*****mn** _car."

"You really think I'm f**king _**blind**_, Lieutenant?!" Chan asked. "I just saw you letting a f**ker who was mugging a helpless girl go, and you-"

Before Chan could continue, Sam lost his temper and he turned to Chan angrily.

"Don't even think about lecturing me about some useless moral in crime doesn't pay as if you've come to Coolsville for any other reason than a challenge for yourself, Chan." Sam said crossly. "As soon as you hit the same wall everyone has hit in trying to solve the murder of the Crowns, you'll be on the first flight back to Honolulu, and I'll buy the tickets!"

Chan was stunned silent by the lieutenant's outburst and didn't respond.

Then, Sam cooled down as he returned to their car and added, "Don't judge me, Chan. You don't know me that well."

After what seemed like hours, Chan followed his lead and got onto the car and they continued the drive in silence.

* * *

Just a few blocks away at the Coolsville City Hall, State Senator Barty Daggett was finishing up his speech at a campaign-style rally in front of reporters and dozens of supporters waving small American flags.

The state senator was in the company of Mayor Francis Jones, Councilman Henry Iverson and Chief of Police Louis "Lou" Strickland, and there were a few police officers nearby standing guard.

"So remember to vote for real change at Capitol Hill and with your efforts, together we can bring our fine nation to the highest of places it can reach!" Daggett concluded, and everyone began to cheer loudly. "May G** bless America."

As the crowd at the rally began to cheer, Daggett paused to take a sip of water, then he glanced towards down the street where a large anti-Vietnam War protest group was marching down the street towards City Hall.

"H*ll no, we won't go!" The protest group chanted loudly, and several of the protesters can be seen carrying signs saying "Get the H*ll out of Vietnam!".

As the protest group closely approaches City Hall, their chants became louder, together with the tension and anger.

"Stop the war!" The protest group continued as Daggett's supporters at the rally began to mobilize. "Feed the poor!"

As if knowing that the clash between the two rival groups was about to occur, Francis Jones turned towards Strickland and nodded at him with a smirk forming on his face.

Nodding back firmly, the police chief got off the stage and immediately signalled for the police officers stationed nearby to mobilize.

As that happened, the protest group continued, "Not my son, not your son, not their sons!"

"Say no to killing war machines!" One of the protesters yelled.

"Say no to yourself, you Communist traitors!" One of Daggett's supporters yelled back as they marched towards the protesters.

"Says the baby killers!" Another one of the protesters yelled back as police swiftly moved in to create a buffer between the two rival groups.

As tensions between the two groups began to rise, several of the police officers began to pull out their batons.

* * *

"Well, that was one h*ll of a rally, Barty." Mayor Jones remarked as they met in his office a short while later. "You sure got them energized."

"Of course I had, Frank." Daggett nodded. "With any luck, we might just clear some moss off Capitol Hill this November."

"Yes indeed." Jones said, but before he could continue, his chief of staff burst into the office, and the mayor immediately turned around.

Judging the urgent look on the lady's face, Jones figured that it couldn't be good as the smile on his face disappeared and he narrowed his eyes.

"What is it, Judy?" The mayor asked calmly as Daggett turned around.

"Sir, I'm afraid we've sprung a leak." Judy replied.

The statement immediately sucked the air out of the mayor's office, and the look on Jones' face darkened.

"What sort of leak are we talking about here, Judy?" Daggett frowned.

"The feds have gotten wind of an Agent Orange 'deal' that was made between Dixon's Chemicals and the Viet Cong following a recent raid at the Los Angeles Harbor that saw a complete shipment of Agent Orange seized from fishing boats bound for Vietnam." Judy explained. "And then, just this morning, our security point man disappeared."

Up until that point, Daggett's campaign manager, a woman by the name of Alice Dovely, was busy jotting something down on a clipboard, but Judy's revelation prompted her to to pause from her writing and look up.

"Disappeared?" Alice asked.

"That's right." Judy nodded. "I've been trying to get ahold of her at work and by phone, she isn't answering and no one has seen her at work, nor has our source in the police department have made any progress in tracking her down."

"It's Spacely." Alice said, and immediately, the temperature in the office cooled down by ten degrees. "She was supposed to make sure that the shipment made it out of the harbour and American waters undetected, and yet the raid happened."

There was some stunned silence in the office, and the four glanced at each other.

"Do we have any reason to believe that Spacely's been compromised?" Jones asked, the calmness in his voice betraying the sense of urgency building inside him.

"We sure as h*ll hope not." Daggett quickly said. "Though knowing that pain in the neck ADA Jones, I won't be surprised if his people managed to turn Spacely and tipped off the feds."

A leak was the nightmarish scenario they were all dreading. If the true colours of Dixon's Chemicals were ever to come to light, particularly its role as a front company for some questionable characters, the results could be catastrophic for the careers of Mayor Francis Jones and State Senator Barty Daggett.

They could both be facing lengthy prison sentences for treason, corruption and money laundering, though considering who they've been receiving money from, they could potentially face a fate that is worse than facing multiple consecutive life sentences or even the electric chair.

"Spacely must be found and prevented from talking." Jones said in alarm.

Then, the mayor turned to Alice and asked, "Do you think that the Werewolf could handle it?"

"Of course, sir." Alice nodded. "Though he's gonna need payment."

Jones turned towards Judy as his eyes narrowed. "Then, we can take care of two birds with one stone."

Knowing what Jones was thinking, Daggett said, "Then, I will leave you guys to it, Frank."

As he and Alice turned to leave, the state senator paused at the door before adding, "Oh, and Frank, I will let Lou know that you will be running late for our meeting."

"Appreciate it, Barty." Jones nodded.

* * *

A short while later, the mayor was speaking on the telephone after the call with District Attorney Dayton Knight was connected.

As soon as the district attorney answered, Jones got straight down to business.

"You didn't take care of Assistant District Attorney Jones as you've promised, District Attorney." The mayor barked.

A few minutes went by before the mayor cut in, "I don't want any f**king excuses, Dayton! You shouldn't be dragging this out, especially considering your long-time work for Barty Daggett."

Another pause went by before the mayor snarled, "I don't give a flying f**k, Knight! You should be figuring something out to get that ADA out of the way, not come up with excuses! You used to be sharp and efficient before you ran for the DA's office, Dayton. What the h*ll happened to you?"

Several more minutes went by before the mayor calmed down, then he glanced at his office door before saying, "Do as I ask, or you can bury your youngest daughter next, Knight."

Another pause went by, and then the mayor nodded. "I will be sure to say hi to your eldest."

With that, the mayor hung up the phone with a huff, in time for his office door to open.

When the mayor looked up, two of his men were dragging a struggling brown-haired girl into his office.

Mayor Jones' face began to slowly form into a smirk as he looked at District Attorney Knight's eldest daughter, whose eyes were red.

Without another word, the mayor got up from his seat and touched the girl's cheeks gently.

Seeing the dark look in the mayor's eyes, the girl's eyes began to well up as she became aware of the gruesome fate that awaits her.

Without saying another word, the mayor looked up to his two men and nodded.

The mayor's message was clear. Tell the Werewolf to be quick with the one he had grabbed earlier that afternoon.

The two men nodded back before they proceeded to drag the girl out of his office, and as the door closed, Mayor Jones can hear the girls cries and pleas.

* * *

Elsewhere, in an unknown location at another part of Coolsville, a brown-haired girl had woke up and found herself tied up to a chair in a dark room.

Panic soon filled her mind as she looked around to survey her surroundings. Considering how poorly-maintained the wooden floor looked, it didn't take much for her to figure that she's being held captive in an abandoned house.

"Where am I?" She wondered. "And why am I here?"

It was then that the door creaked open, and the girl instantly became alert

"Who's there?" She asked.

She turned towards the nearby stairs leading to the only door to the room, where a pair of glowing-red eyes was the only thing she could see in the darkness.

"Good to see you again, Jamie." The figure with the pair of glowing red eyes said as it approaches her.

"M-m-my name isn't Jamie." The girl said nervously.

As the figure closely approached her, it walked past a shine of light from the moonlight, where it became apparent to the girl that its legs looked like...the hind legs of a wolf.

"Please..." She pleaded as the wolf-like figure approached her. "Let me go...I want to go home."

"Sorry, Jamie." The figure revealed himself to be a half-man, half-wolf person with a sinister-looking smile on his horrendous-looking face. "It's just going to be you and me."

The wolfman then raised his hand, revealing sharp claws and closed in on the girl, who blurted out, "I told...you...my name isn't...Jamie..."

Those words were the girl's last words, as a moment later, a muted scream can be heard from an abandoned manor located in an isolated area of Coolsville.

* * *

**Oh dear. Looks like the fabled werewolf has claimed another victim.**

**What will happen next? And how will Mystery Inc. come together?**

**Stay tuned, and please read and review!**


	5. Another victim and a rough start

Chapter 5: Another victim and a rough start

_October 8, 1968_

Fred Jones groaned as his alarm clock went off at the usual time of 6:00.

He could've sworn that the alarm clock was resetting itself five minutes earlier in each passing day, which meant that he's getting up earlier and earlier as the days passed.

Well, considering the blonde's routine of going out for a jog every morning before breakfast, Fred didn't mind waking up at the crack of dawn.

It was a routine he has adapted to ever since he joined the school football team, and the workout schedule and strict diet he followed allowed him to build up his muscles.

As the blonde was in the process of changing into his jogging clothes, a gruff voice boomed through the closed door.

"Frederick!" The voice boomed, and Fred paused as he recognized the voice.

That voice was none other than that of Assistant District Attorney Jefferson "Skip" Jones, who has twenty years of experience as a prosecutor under his belt and has a reputation for being relentless in his cases.

"In here, Dad." Fred called back as he put on his Coolsville Central Hornets sweatshirt.

A few minutes went by before the former Navy JAG officer pushed the door open and entered his room, and Fred greeted. "What's up?"

"I'm sure you've heard or read about the werewolf that has been lurking in the streets of Coolsville for the past while, huh?" Skip asked.

"The Killer Werewolf case, Dad?" Fred asked, and the former JAG officer nodded. "Yeah, I heard about it. What about it?"

"The Killer Werewolf had just claimed another victim." Skip said. "I'm sure you know about Carrie Spacely, who was the late Assistant District Attorney Roger Stevens' investigator, right?"

"Oh yes, I know about Spacely, Dad." Fred nodded. "What about her?"

"I'm sure you're aware that I've been trying to get to the bottom of a racketeering ring that has been putting the credibility of the DA's office and the legal process in Crystal Cove at stake for the past couple weeks." Skip said.

"Right, I know, Dad." Fred nodded again. "It was stemmed by the murder of Stevens a month ago, right?"

"That's right." Skip nodded. "It was a case that brought down a judge and a few others in the DA's office, but from what I understood, the corruption goes deeper."

"And Spacely was part of it." Fred interjected.

"Exactly." Skip replied. "Long story short, my office has reason to believe that the late-ADA Stevens was engaged in a conspiracy to legally shield Dixon's Chemicals from potential prosecution for war crimes and charges of treason."

"What was Spacely's role in the conspiracy?" Fred asked.

"Arranging security to help smuggle tonnes of Agent Orange chemicals out of the Los Angeles Harbor to the Viet Cong, providing them with the weaponry needed to kill our men." Skip said with a tone of disgust in his voice.

"Which, in turn, will provide further justification for us to get further involved in that war in Vietnam." Fred scoffed.

"Sums it up pretty much, the feds do have an idea on what their endgame was, but I won't be surprised if it was to further lobby the government to send more troops to Vietnam and counter the narrative set by the anti-war protesters." Skip nodded.

Fred exhaled as he frowned, then he asked, "So what happened to Spacely?"

"I was told that Spacely was gonna be taken into protective custody, but the feds couldn't find her this morning." Skip said. "In fact, I was just told that there were werewolf claws found at her house when the feds made the search."

Fred felt his insides were tightening, then he said, "It's the Killer Werewolf."

"My suspicions exactly, son." Skip nodded. "Unfortunately, my team and I can't do the sleuthing, owing to a major trial taking place next Monday and we need to be prepared, given that we're gearing up against one of the best players in defence."

"Slammin' Sneakers, Dad?" Fred asked, referring to the defence attorney Samuel 'Slammin'' Sneakers, who got his nickname from his ability to slam right at witnesses testifying against his clients and destroying their credibility as a result.

Skip nodded, and Fred exhaled once more before he asked, "That's unfortunate, Dad. Who do you have in mind that can help out?"

* * *

Fred was seated at his usual spot in his second period chemistry class, his mind drifting off to the nearby window as Mr. McDabble discussed molecular weight.

Even though it has been several hours since his father Skip asked him to help out in getting to the bottom of the Werewolf nonsense, Fred still find himself unable to process what Skip asked him to do.

After all, his father didn't seem like the type who would endorse him sleuthing, considering Skip often noticing him reading mystery novels and cautions against playing detective.

But knowing how much Chief of Police Lou Strickland prioritizes keeping wealthy and influential members of Coolsville society safe, Fred figured that his father couldn't turn to them, especially given how the police hasn't been able to stay at the top of the Werewolf case.

Of course, there were the feds to take into account as well, though Skip himself had a rather checkered history with the bureau and would rather not rely on the FBI to try to get to the bottom of the case.

Something about FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover doesn't sit right with Skip, though Fred was sure his father would rather not know the sort of shady things the FBI director could potentially direct his agents into doing should he try to dig into what the bureau was up to.

Couple that was Skip's ongoing campaign to run for District Attorney, and with him and his team stretched out already as it is, Fred figured that his father had no other option but to turn to him.

_I suppose there's a method to Dad's madness here for this case. _Fred thought to himself, during which he looked around and his eyes settled onto Velma Dinkley.

The 14-year old has always been at the top of the class, and couple that with her involvement in the school's science club, it doesn't take much for Fred to figure that she has a strong belief in science.

This in itself enables him to have someone who could analyze the clues they could potentially find at the scenes of the latest werewolf attacks, not to mention debunking the werewolf legend with the same stone.

Besides Velma Dinkley, Fred has another person in mind who could be of great asset in getting to the bottom of the werewolf case was Daphne Blake.

The redhead had interviewed him a number of occasions, particularly during her time at the school newspaper.

Daphne herself has hinted to him of her interest in pursuing investigative journalism as a career, and Fred figured that she could be of great asset in piecing the clues together and help crack the case.

Of course, Fred figured that there are gonna be some complications in his efforts to assemble his team. After all, Velma's likely still sore at him for not stopping Red in forcing her to finish his essay that was due yesterday that past Friday.

As Fred continued to stare towards the window, Velma, who was seated within Fred's line of sight to the window, turned around suddenly.

Noticing Fred was looking towards her, the auburn-haired girl glared at him. _What the h*ll are you looking at?_

Immediately, Fred quickly turned away and back towards the blackboard, and Velma huffed as she turned back towards Mr. McDabble.

* * *

A short while later, it was lunch period and Fred decided first thing to take care of the situation with Velma.

The blonde found her seated at her usual spot in the cafeteria writing notes, and as he approached her, he noticed that her lunch was at the side and apparently haven't been touched.

"You not hungry?" Fred asked in greeting.

Velma paused from her note-taking and looked up, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Fred.

"Not really." She responded with a frown. "What do you want?"

Fred didn't respond for a minute, as he was busy taking a closer look at her glasses. He could've sworn that she could burn ants with those lenses on her glasses.

Just then, the blonde felt a sudden shot of pain from the back of his head, and he let out an instinctive "Ow!"

As Fred rubbed the back of his head, Velma had just placed her left hand back onto the table. He may have been trained to withstand the usual pain that comes with the slams or tackles in football, but he can still feel the effects from a simple headslap.

"What the h*ll was that for?!" Fred asked.

"You know d*mn well what I'm talking about, Jones." The frown on Velma's face deepened as she raised her voice. "On how you simply stood by and let Red Herring intimidate me into doing his essay, which, by the way, fits the definition of plagiarism!"

Seeing the confused look on Fred's face, Velma continued, "You do realize that if Red gets caught, you and I can get into trouble for knowing about his plagiarism and not doing a thing about it, huh?"

Fred only rubbed his head in response, and he studied the hardened look on Velma's face.

The blonde finally nodded, then he said, "Well, I suppose I deserved that headslap, but that's not why I'm here."

"Then, what is it that you need me for?" Velma asked.

"Well...I need help on a project." Fred said.

"What kind of project?" Velma raised an eyebrow.

"It...involves capturing a...monster, to be exact." Fred explained hesitatingly.

"What?" The frown on Velma's face disappeared, replaced by the look of surprise, and Fred figured that she wasn't expecting him to make this sort of request to her.

"Yes." Fred nodded. "I know this sounds ridiculous, but I am deeply aware that you're very skeptical on the legitimacy of those supernatural legends haunting the city, and I need someone smart enough who could prove exactly it."

It was then that Velma completely put down her pencil as she digested the information, then she looked up at him squarely.

"Are you talking about that wolf-like creature that has been snatching girls off the streets of Coolsville recently, Freddie?" She asked. "Because I hate to waste my time working on an activity that pretends such mystic creatures actually exist, so you can count me out."

She then resumed her note taking, only for Fred to reach out my hand to block her eyesight.

As she looked up at him in annoyance, Fred quickly said, "Well, I'm sure you'll like to take the chance of changing your own dull life, a chance investigating this werewolf provides. And besides, if you decide to try to prove that there are no such thing as werewolves or to prove me wrong, then wouldn't you be sharing a common, attainable goal with me?"

Velma paused and her lips formed a straight line as she considers Fred's remark and studies him, during which Fred began to gently tap on the table.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she reluctantly nodded.

"Fine." Velma said. "Though you know, once I help you out, I expect something from you in return, Jones."

Fred arched his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb, Jones." Velma said. "I expect you to keep Red in line on forcing others to do his work for him."

"Well, we're...not exactly friends." Fred scratched his head, though Velma rolled her eyes in response. "We do enjoy playing football together, but outside of that..."

"Now don't give me any excuses, Jones." Velma cut in sharply. "Even if you're not exactly friends with Red Herring, you can be judged by others based on the type of company you keep."

"I'm not sure if I follow." Fred said.

"I don't think you were following anyway." Velma said. "So I'm just gonna make this straight: Either you do something about Red Herring and his bullying ways or you can count me out of this 'project'."

Fred frowned, and then he said, "Well, I'm not a f**king snitch."

Velma grunted before she picked up her belongings, got up from her seat, then she said, "Then, don't expect any help from me in your hobby."

With that, Velma proceeded to walk away, during which Fred glanced around.

Through the glass panel viewing the hallway from the cafeteria, Fred can see Red and his pals taking lunch money from another helpless student, and the blonde sighed.

Red himself was no stranger to the school detention room, and Fred thought that it was quite hypocritical for Red to call Troy out for his deeds even though Red himself was nowhere better.

Even so, Fred thought that there was some logic in Red's madness. After all, Red never feared practice and has often contributed to the school securing game-winning touchdowns, whereas Troy frequently fumbled as quarterback.

But thinking back to what Velma had said earlier, Fred find himself unable to argue with her logic. She does have plenty of points, and just because Red frequently contributes to the school's victory streak in football doesn't justify his bullying ways.

Reluctantly, Fred swiftly thought of something and quickly ran after Velma.

"Velma!" Fred called out.

The blonde watched as Velma stopped in her tracks, and for a few moments, he could tell that she was contemplating whether or not she should turn around and go back to him.

Finally, Velma reluctantly turned around and her eyes narrowed as she walked back to him.

"This better be good, Jones." Velma said.

* * *

Fred had his hands in his pockets as he met up with his friends at their lockers after lunch, and he was still thinking about what he just did.

Even though he wasn't facing the cafeteria, the blonde was aware that Velma was watching him.

He managed to convince her to help out with the case in return for letting her do something to get even with Red, though deep down, he felt that his gut was telling him that this idea is bound to backfire on them should things go wrong.

Anyways, a short while later, the blonde was on his way to his third period English class when he walked by Shaggy, which is when he realized that he had forgotten about something.

The guy may be quite the slacker with his drug problems, but based on what Fred had observed, Shaggy doesn't seem the type who would easily crack under pressure.

By that point, though, the hallway was crowded with students heading to their third period class, and Fred find himself having a hard time trying to make his way towards Shaggy, who was pretty much several feet ahead walking in the opposite direction of the flow.

It seemed like whenever Fred tried to push ahead against the flow, the further away Shaggy is from him.

_How is it even possible? _Fred thought to himself as he saw Shaggy's retreating back further ahead down the hallway. _That slacker's going in the same direction as me, yet he doesn't seem to be pushed back by the crowd as much as I am._

Immediately, the blonde decided to call him out.

"Rogers!" He shouted.

Of course, Shaggy didn't respond and continued on down the hallway, likely a result of the crowd drowning out his shouting.

Fred struggled in vain as he tried to catch up to Shaggy, where the crowd of students continued to pour through the hallway.

As he looked towards the other end of the hallway, Fred can see Shaggy's retreating back in a distance.

A crowd of students arriving from an intersecting hallway briefly blocked the blonde's line of sight towards Shaggy, and a split second after said crowd had cleared, much to Fred's astonishment, Shaggy was nowhere to be seen.

_What the h*ll? _Fred's eyes widened in surprise as he quickly pushed his way through the crowd.

He eventually managed to reach where Shaggy was standing at before he simply vanished into thin air, and the blonde scratched his head in confusion as he looked around.

There were no doors nearby, just rows of lockers, and Fred couldn't see the familiar-looking dusty brown shaggy hair in the students that were at their lockers.

The blonde frowned. Shaggy was taller than most students, even more so than the juniors and seniors, yet he somehow managed to disappear behind the crowd of students.

_You've gotta be f**king kidding me. _Fred scratched his head, though a quick glance at the nearby clock swiftly reminded him that he will be running late for his third period class should he keep standing at where he is at.

* * *

That evening, Daphne was going through her usual routine of going out on a walk at the neighbourhood park after dinner.

Considering the news of the werewolf attacks lately, it was reasonable for the redhead to be on her guard.

The self-defence classes she has taken since as a child have been bearing a lot of fruit for the redhead, especially when it comes to growing up in a city like Coolsville.

Behind the wealthy, prosperous façade stood a city where a legacy in segregation and discrimination in urban policy planning has resulted in serious racial tensions and a divide between the rich and poor, the former further fueled by the segregationist policies of the county and the recent assassination of a civil rights leader.

It is natural that there will be resentment towards the wealthy from the disadvantaged, and so George Blake had thought it fit for Daphne to be enrolled in self-defence classes.

As the redhead strolled through the park, her instincts instantly placed her on high alert when she felt someone nearby.

Immediately, when Daphne felt that someone was closely behind her, she immediately reached into her purse.

Just as the redhead reached for the pepper spray she carried at all times for self-defence, a familiar-voice said, "Relax, Daph. It's me."

Daphne paused before she turned around, and she relaxed when she saw that it was Fred Jones standing behind her.

"Seriously, Fred, what the h*ll?" Daphne placed her hands by her hips as Fred stepped closer. "If it wasn't for your clarification earlier, you would've been on your way to the nearest washroom to have pepper spray washed off your eyes."

"Eh...sorry 'bout that, Daph." Fred scratched his head sheepishly. "It just feels a little...awkward going to you to speak after that...last interview you gave me."

"Don't remind me." Daphne deadpanned. "Unless you're asking me to do a clarification on what I've wrote on the paper from that interview, I'm afraid what I've written is already circulated out there and people are getting some good ideas about what exactly was going on behind the scenes during football practice."

Fred paused his lips before he said, "Well, to be honest, I probably should've clarified early on, though there's not much I can do about it now, especially since I'm sure no one's reading the clarification as much as those that read the original article, but that's not why I'm here."

"Okay, then." Daphne nodded thoughtfully. "What do you need?"

"Uh..." Fred's eyes glanced towards the nearby bench and he pointed towards it. "Can we sit over there for a minute?"

"Sure." Daphne replied, though inside, she was confused about what Fred was saying earlier.

In spite of the confusion, Daphne nevertheless followed the blonde to the nearby bench and they promptly took their seats.

"All right, Fred." Daphne said once they were seated. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"Listen, you know my Dad's the assistant district attorney looking to unseat DA Knight in the upcoming election, right?" Fred asked.

"Of course." Daphne nodded. _Everyone knows about Assistant DA Skip Jones' campaign for the DA's office._

"Anyways, he's had this source at the police department who's been investigatin' this spree of disappearances lately, a spree that began a few weeks ago when a girl's body was discovered at Fred Quimby Memorial Park." Fred began. "You see, that girl went missing two days before that, and her parents found wolf claws in her room."

Daphne deadpanned as Fred continued, "Given that her body was covered with horrendous scars all over, ones that match that of animal attacks, the police initially figured that her death was the result of that."

"And?" The tone in Daphne's voice betrayed the boredom she was feeling.

"Earlier this morning, another girl got snatched off the street with wolf claws found at her room, and this is the part where it gets weird." Fred continued. "This time, unlike the past disappearances, there was a witness who saw the whole thing happening."

Fred paused to take a breath before he continued, "Anyways, Dad told me this morning that his source was annoyed that this was another situation where the witness was confused by what he had saw."

"_Saw_?" Daphne lit up.

"The witness swears up and down that he saw a man's shadow approaching the place near where the latest victim live, and other than the victim, the culprit and the witness, the cops have confirmed that there was no one else around." Fred said. "Yet when you take into account of the wolf claws found at the victims rooms and the horrendous bites on the first victim, it's as if the victims were snatched by someone who transformed into a wolf!"

"As in a werewolf?" Daphne asked skeptically.

"Exactly." Fred nodded. "Now, I know what the h*ll you're thinking. You're probably thinking that there's no such thing as werewolves, and you're probably right. The witness last saw a man near the victim before the victim got snatched away by a wolf, but then again, where the h*ll do you think those werewolf legends come from?"

"Maybe the witness was confused and missed something." Daphne offered.

"Maybe he did, and maybe he didn't." Fred shrugged. "But either way, with everythin' that has been happening lately and the killer of the girl still on the loose weeks later, you really can't dismiss this angle of the case now, can you?"

Daphne exhaled as she studied the look on Fred's face, then she sighed.

"Okay, for the sake of argument, let's say that there was indeed a werewolf involved in this, Fred." Daphne said. "What is it that you will like me to do?"

"I was hoping you'd be interested in helping me getting to the bottom of these werewolf sightings." Fred responded.

Daphne almost immediately felt that the remarked sucked the air out of the surrounding area, and her eyes frowned.

"Werewolf?" Daphne asked after digesting Fred's words.

"Yeah...perhaps?" Fred replied hesitatingly.

"What you were suggesting is that you and I can get to the bottom of these werewolf sightings, am I right?" Daphne clarified.

"More or less, I know there's something going on there and that there's something the cops ain't tellin' us." Fred said. "Which then opens the door for an opportunity to make a difference."

Then, with his confidence warming up inside him, the blonde continued, "Imagine if what we've discovered changes the world as we know it!"

"I-I'm sorry, Fred, what exactly is it that you would like me to do?" Daphne asked.

"You'll be the journalist, or more to the point, the messenger delivering the truth of this case to the people while I do the investigating." Fred answered. "Besides, I'm sure you've got sources at your paper that could help us out, don't you?"

"Perhaps, I do." Daphne replied. "Though what you're suggesting is crazy, Fred."

"Maybe, but do you honestly think that this case will ever get resolved at its current pace?" Fred countered. "I mean, think about it! The cops aren't exactly doing well in getting to the bottom of this case, my Dad's investigators are occupied with their current trial, and do you really think that we would wanna involve the feds in this?"

Daphne paused her lips as she pondered Fred's points, then she asked, "Sure, though even then, what makes you think I should help you, Fred?"

"Come on, you're an intern at the city's largest newspaper, and I'm sure you've been assigned to write stories that has already been written or published." Fred pointed out. "H*ll, I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't even gotten to doing a solo assignment and callin' dibs on the scoop of a major story."

Fred's words immediately reminded Daphne of her interview at the radio station the day before, specifically her encounter with a certain slacker.

"Not to mention that you're a Blake, and everyone in town knows that Blakes are high achievers." Fred continued. "Investigating this werewolf case is a whole different ballgame compared to rewriting s**ty articles on the paper. It's investigative journalism."

Daphne only studied the look on Fred's face as he made the remark, and she really hated it when he makes a crazy idea sounds like it makes completely sense.

Even so, she find herself unable to argue with the points Fred made, and seeing the ambition to change the world inside him, Daphne knew that there's something he's got in mind that could probably just work.

"In that case, you can count me in." Daphne finally said after some moments of silence.

* * *

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	6. In the park and a shoeprint

Chapter 6: In the park and a shoeprint

_October 9, 1968_

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

The morning went by as usual for me, and man, am I glad to have not ran into Fred and his gang during lunch period like I did on Monday.

I swear whenever I see them, I just see a cloud of angry hornets pissed off at me for crushing one of their own near their nest, ready to attack.

You really think that after all this time attending Central High, I would've figured out a way to avoid running into the wolf pack, yet I somehow end up running into them one way or another almost on a weekly basis.

After finishing another rather boring third period Civics class and fourth period Chem, it was off to the radio station for me.

As I made my way down the hallway, I took the time to look around.

No sign of Fred or any of the guys in his gang. So far so good as I reached for the main entrance.

Walking down Union Avenue, I glanced around as Central High disappeared behind me, and then it was the Riverdale neighbourhood I was approaching.

Two blocks down Constitution Boulevard, the buildings around me were getting taller and taller as I approached the city's downtown business district.

The Harman and Ising Radio Tower appeared before me, and I inhaled as I made my way towards the main entrance door.

"Hey Rogers!" A familiar-sounding voice called out just as I was about to push the door open and make my way into the radio station.

_Blast! _I grumbled as I realized who that voice was, and I immediately moved to push the door open when a hand suddenly grabbed me in the shoulder and jerked me around.

Sure enough, it was Fred Jones standing behind me, what a surprise.

He certainly looked like he was panting, and I said, "What now? Please don't tell me that you just ran after me all the way from school, Jones."

"I...uh...just can't believe that a guy...like you could...walk this fast." Fred struggled to catch his breath. "Unless, of course, you were looking forward to gettin' the h*ll out of school as soon as the bell rang."

I studied the look on Fred's face, and I wasn't really sure if I should take his earlier comment as a compliment or an insult. Either way, not my concern right now.

"Seriously, man, did you just ran all the way from school to here in order to tell me all of that?" I asked. "If so, then whatever. We're done here."

I then pried his hand off my shoulder before turning towards the door and added, "And besides, I'm running late."

Somehow, there's something about "We're done here" that Fred doesn't seem to understand, because before I could push the door open, he grabbed me by the shoulder again and turned me around once again.

"No, we're not, Rogers." Fred said. "In fact, unless you let me speak, you're gonna be even more late for whatever it is you claim to be running late for."

I scoffed. "This about the painkillers you accuse me of supplying Troy with, Jones?"

"Maybe." Fred shrugged. "What the h*ll is it that you need to take those painkillers everyday anyways? Because I can guarantee that if you keep this up, one of these days you're gonna have an overdose."

"Sure, whatever." I rolled my eyes. "My life, my business, Jones. Are we done?"

"No, we're f**king not, Rogers." Fred retorted as he pushed me to the nearby wall. "Because I just checked with the DA's office. Painkillers are classified as a controlled substance, which means that they're off-limits on school property."

"Ya think?" I asked, though the question must've pushed Jones' buttons, because next thing you know, he blew up right at me.

"Is this a f**king joke to you, Rogers?" Fred snapped as he grabbed me by the collar. "You really think the law is a joke? Because if I let it be known that you've been using controlled substances on school property on a daily basis, you could get yourself suspended or even expelled."

Without relaxing the grip he had on my collar, Fred continued, "Now don't you even f**king think that I'm bluffing here, because I know someone who also knows Vice Principal Grimes, and I'm d*mn sure that Grimes would only be too happy to take care of the problem when I go to him."

Then, narrowing his eyes, he pointed his finger right into my chest and said, "Of course, if you're willing to keep your distance from Troy and the other ballplayers, then I might just hold off on telling on you to Grimes."

_I don't even wanna be in the same room as those guys in Fred's circle, but whatever. _I thought before saying, "Sure, fifty feet away from Troy and the guys at all times if you like, got it."

Fred grunted as he relaxed the grip he had on my collar, which means he's done with that, though the look on his face tells me that there's more on his mind that he wants to talk to me about.

Not sure if I wanna find out what exactly is in his mind, to be honest with you, though he seemed to be thinking what I just said through and was debating whether or not he should take my word for it.

"Tell you what, Rogers." Fred finally said after some long silence. "I got something going down at the Fred Quimby Park this Thursday and could use a guy like you."

I wasn't expecting that. "A-a guy like me?"

"Of course." Fred nodded. "Someone cool under pressure and is used to doing shady sh*t."

I blinked as he studied me. As far as I know, being the son of an Assistant DA, Fred's the last person you would've expect to be the type that would do shady stuff, especially with him on the school football team, and his remark on shady stuff sure caught me off guard.

My instincts be d*mned, I thought I would like to press further on what he's got in mind.

I asked, "Like, what the devil you're doing that might end up being shady?"

That's when the frown on his face disappeared, replaced by an almost-genuine smile.

"Hunting wolves, or more specifically, werewolves." Fred replied with a grin.

For the love of anything holy, what sort of mess am I about to get myself into?

* * *

_October 10, 1968_

It may have been two days since my run-in with Fred at the entrance to the radio station, but I still find myself unable to believe what the devil did I agree to that afternoon.

From what I understood, I was supposed to meet up with Fred and two other guys in finding this werewolf near the Fred Quimby Park this afternoon.

Like, seriously, a werewolf. Isn't that the same Killer Werewolf that has been snatching girls off the streets lately? After all, I do remember Dad vividly warning Mags never to go out alone at night, especially in downtown and the Fred Quimby Park area, which I heard is where the Killer Werewolf is the most active at.

Either way, I still can't process what could have possessed Fred to find a bunch of guys, yours truly included, in finding this werewolf.

Last I checked, wolves are very dangerous and if we make the wrong move, we would end up as wolf chow.

But somehow, Fred think that a bunch of guys and I have the capability to find this werewolf instead of the cops.

Either way, Fred did promise me that as long as I help him out in the wolf hunt, he won't snitch my thing to Vice Principal Grimes.

For the love of anything holy, come to think of it, Fred certainly seemed to be the type who doesn't exactly abide by a set of standards.

On the one hand, he told me that as long as I cooperate with him in his wolf hunt, he wouldn't snitch me to the vice principal.

On the other hand, though, I've heard somewhere that when Fred was told by Velma that she expects him to do something about Red Herring, he told her that he's "not a f**king snitch", as he puts it.

Seems to me that my actions are frowned upon and deserved to be snitched on, all while Red Herring gets a free pass from his bullying ways.

Anyways, as things turned out, there was this bonfire taking place at the park tonight, which is also when Fred told us to meet up.

Given that Mags is at a sleepover with a friend and Dad working overtime tonight, it is up to me to take Scoob out as I go meet up with Fred.

With the sun in the process of setting over the horizon, the park sure looks dark even with the lampposts on and the light from the bonfire.

As Scoob led the way, I took the time to glance over my shoulder. It's not the Killer Werewolf I'm worried about as I glanced over my shoulder.

Should word get around that a bunch of high school students were hanging out at the scene of where the werewolf snatched its latest victim, the news will quickly spread around town like wildfire, and being a small city, everyone pretty much knows everyone.

The last thing I need is for Pops to have a fit when he hears that I was spotted at a crime scene with a bunch of guys, and when I said that Pops will have a fit, he _would._

After all, Pops was always clear in his disapproval of those that decides to take the law into their own hands.

It was then that Scooby barked, and I froze as I looked towards where Scooby was looking at.

There were two figures up ahead, and through the fading light from the sky, I recognized Fred as one of them.

"Relax, Scoob." I quickly said. "They mean no harm."

"Rogers?" I recognized Fred's voice as he stepped forward. "It's me."

* * *

**(Third Person)**

Fred Jones felt the tension inside him loosening up when he saw Shaggy and Scooby approaching him and Velma.

He wouldn't have considered a dog bark good news if it weren't for Shaggy, because should word around on him being near a crime scene, there's the danger that he could give someone the wrong impression that wouldn't be of much help to his father's ongoing campaign to replace Dayton Knight as district attorney.

Either way, as Shaggy and Scooby approached him and Velma, Fred's eyes were focused on the Great Dane accompanying him.

_Did this guy really brought his huge a** dog along for monster-hunting? _Fred wondered.

As if knowing what Fred was thinking, Shaggy quickly said, "My sister's at a sleepover, my Dad's working overtime and I never leave Scoob home alone except during school time."

Fred paused his lips and was about to say something when Shaggy turned towards Velma and almost sputtered.

"Velma?" Shaggy asked.

Velma was in the process of recovering from the double-take she had when she first spotted Shaggy, and she quickly sputtered back.

"Norville?" Velma said, and Fred almost snorted.

_What kind of a name is Norville? _Fred wondered as Velma continued, "It's been a while."

Pushing aside the thought he had on Shaggy's real name, Fred glanced at Shaggy and Velma awkwardly.

"Sounds like you guys...knew each other." Fred remarked.

"Like, Velma and I go way back when she was my next door neighbour in Brooklyn." Shaggy explained.

"That's right." Velma nodded. "We went to the same public school for two years before my family and I moved here after Dad got his current job."

"Sounds like there's more to you moving away from him than you claim, Velma." Another voice remarked, and the group turned around and saw Daphne approaching them.

Almost immediately, Velma glanced at Shaggy and noticed the way he tensed at the sight of the redhead approaching them.

"What are you suggesting?" She asked as Fred turned towards her and Shaggy.

"Just an observation, maybe your parents thought that he was not exactly a good influence on you and thought that the job transfer would work in your favour." Daphne shrugged.

"Well, for your information, Daphne, Norville and I knew each other while in kindergarten and Grade 1." Velma scoffed. "He's always been the cheerful chap and is always fun to hang around with, especially when he cracks jokes."

"Ah, is that right." Daphne remarked before glancing at Shaggy and continued, "Then, how is it that your friend went from that to becoming a slacker who goes by the name of Shaggy?"

As the redhead was making the remark, her eyes rolled towards Fred with a glare that was throwing daggers at him for inviting Shaggy.

"Well, slacker or no slacker, figured that I could use a guy like Shaggy in getting to the bottom of this." Fred shrugged.

"Like, and now that we're all here, mind if I ask what's the plan?" Shaggy added.

"Yeah, what's the plan now, Fred?" Velma asked.

"So the latest victim's place is just on the edge of the park near the hiking trails, and given that the victim's room was facin' the woods, near the fork in the trail where it splits into two, I figured that we could take a look around and see if we can find something worth lookin' into later." Fred offered.

"Sure, though do you really think we're gonna find something?" Velma asked. "After all, we're just a bunch of high school students."

"And a dog." Shaggy added.

The girls both sort of glared at him at the remark, but they both huffed before making their way to the fork in the trail.

* * *

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

I could've sworn that you can cut the awkwardness with a knife as we followed Fred down the trail. Like, seriously, does the guy know what exactly we should be looking for?

Fred himself didn't look too sure, and it took some awkward glances towards him before he decided to take the lead once we reached the fork.

Even now, I still don't know how on earth does Fred expected us to find something in the bushes off the fork.

Sure, the area is within the vicinity from the house in which the Werewolf's latest victim resides, but even then, shouldn't there be tracks or footprints around?

Maybe it was the darkness. There wasn't much light left anyways as the sun sets, and the lights from the lamp posts aren't strong enough to shine towards the bushes we've been trying to get through.

I can hear Fred swore under his breath, and I can't say I blame him. Should've thought about bringing flashlights with us.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Velma suddenly asked.

I glanced around. Is she directing the question to Fred or Daphne or me? I didn't hear any of us dropping something, nor have I heard much rustling from the nearby bushes.

Just then, I felt someone tapping on my shoulder.

"Rogers, I think Velma's talking to you." Fred said, and I turned towards her.

"What?" I asked.

"Maybe you should keep an eye on your dog for a change, because I just saw him taking a dump at the tree over there." Daphne said to me as she pointed towards the nearby tree.

Looking towards where Daphne was pointing at, I stared briefly before my eyes adjusted to the darkness, whereupon I saw what Velma and Daphne were talking about.

"Scoob!" I groaned as I saw the deposit Scooby has made by the tree.

Scooby whined as he sit by the tree, as if he was telling me that I should've let him go relieve himself before we head out to meet up with the others.

I can feel Fred and the girls staring right at me as I knelt down with a plastic bag in hand, ready to scoop up the deposit Scoob has made by the tree.

Sheeze. What's with these people? Haven't they ever seen someone trying to clean up after his dog? Or more like they were expecting Scooby to take off while I was still cleaning up after him.

Instead, I can feel Scooby watching me scoop up the deposit he has made, and I grumbled as I finally got the deposit in the bag without getting my fingers onto it.

"Say, Rogers, mind if you check out the bush on your left when you're done?" Fred suddenly asked, and I glanced to my left.

It certainly looked lopsided, as if someone had walked through the bush recently. I'm sure it wasn't any of us, though, because the bush wasn't at the direction where we've came from.

"Wouldn't the dog just have done that?" Daphne asked. "Doesn't look suspicious to me."

"Well, Scoob isn't the type who likes to poke around the bushes, he's pretty mellow." I said as I glanced at Scooby once more.

He was still standing at his spot, even when I'm not holding onto his leash, and he definitely doesn't look tempted to move a muscle and watch what I'm doing.

And that's when I spotted something in the bush, and I immediately called out, "Zoinks! There's something here in the bush, guys!"

I can hear their footsteps approaching from behind, and Daphne asked, "What is it?"

Quickly shifting the leaves around for them to get a better look, I then said, "Like, it's a footprint, or more to the point, a shoeprint. Either way, it was hidden under the leaves, as if someone had accidentally stepped into the bush."

"That could be from a police officer responding to the call about the latest victim." Velma offered.

"No, that can't be." Daphne quickly said. "The crime scene is way over at the house, why would a police officer come all the way here and step into the bush?"

I nodded. She does raise a good point on that. And besides, I know that the shoeprint can't come from a cop, since the treads aren't anything like the issued footwear worn by police officers.

* * *

**(Third Person)**

Fred also nodded as Daphne made the remark. It was a good point indeed.

His father works with a lot of cops, and several times when he sees a cop enter his father's office during a raining day, he spots the footprints that look nothing like the one they're currently looking at.

"Right, right." He nodded. "We should definitely take a picture of this."

It was then that Velma whipped out her Polaroid 200 Series folding camera, which she uses for her photography club, and she said, "Of course."

Once she snapped several photos of the footprint under the bush, Velma held out her camera as it began developing the photos.

As Velma handed the photos to Fred and Daphne, she then added, "Now, is there anything else we should be looking for?"

Shaggy and Daphne both glanced towards the blonde, and he shrugged.

"I suppose not at this time." Fred replied.

"Good, then let's get the h*ll out of here." Velma said. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm freezing."

Fred nodded. Being in early-October, summer was already long over and with the sun setting earlier than the previous days, the temperature changes can be swift.

"Alright, guys." He said. "Let's head out, though I'm gonna figure out a time for us to meet again, since this is just the beginning."

On their way back towards the trails, Fred could've sworn he heard Velma mutter "Of course it is." under her breath.

* * *

_October 11, 1968_

Fred was still racking his mind that afternoon about their next moves in the case. They've got photos of the shoeprint from yesterday evening near the scene of the crime, but that was about it.

He had met with Daphne earlier during lunch period, and she admitted to him that she herself have no ideas on how to proceed with the case.

Fred knew that turning to Velma and ask her for advice was out of the question. To do that will mean her potentially asking for more favours from him that would make him feel like he's snitching on his pals from the football team.

Besides, Velma herself was quite occupied already. If it isn't the school's science and debate clubs, she's got her photography club outside of school.

Shaggy doesn't seem like the type who would be able to offer ideas on how to proceed with the case, and Fred was pretty sure that the slacker wasn't interested one bit in getting further involved in this.

Anyways, that afternoon's football practice was a complete bust as Fred sat on the bench in front of his football locker.

Earlier during their running practice, Troy had somehow decided to ram himself right into Fred, and their teammates were forced to pry them apart before Fred had a chance to take him out.

Getting sent to the lockers by the coach to cool down gave Fred plenty of time to think, and as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel in his locker, he paused as he noted the Polaroid photos in the back pocket of his jeans.

With no one else around, Fred instinctively grabbed the photos from his jeans and take a closer look at them.

The clearest shot of the print depicted Shaggy placing his foot beside the shoeprint for a size comparison, and judging from the width and height of the shoeprint, Fred figured that the shoeprint must've came from a size 11 shoe.

Having been around cops, or more to the point, police investigators that worked with his father, for a long while, Fred knew enough about shoe treads to dismount Velma's cop theory right away.

Even so, the tread looked very familiar, and Fred thought initially that they will match any of the shoes or sneakers he wore.

The blonde didn't have such luck, though, when he compared all his shoes to the print the night before.

Then the idea hit him, and Fred snapped his fingers as he looked up. He was in a room with the shoes of at least thirty other people, and he figured that he could try to match the shoeprints to any of the shoes the other guys wore.

Swiftly, Fred got up from the bench and moved across the room to pick up each of the shoes and compare their treads with the prints on the photo.

Being in a small city, theft isn't exactly that much of a concern, especially since everybody knew everybody, and any thief who decides to steal a pair of sneakers from a high school football player would wish that he had targetted someone else when the victim catches him wearing the stolen sneakers.

Because when their belongings go missing, those guys **_will _**make the effort to track them down, and they **will**.

* * *

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

I finished up at the radio station at the usual time, and after going through my usual routine and signing off, I made my way out.

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Kasem." I said when I saw Mr. Kasem.

"Yeah, see you, Shaggy." Kasem called back.

As soon as I stepped out of the Harman and Ising Radio Tower and onto the sidewalk along Constitution Boulevard, I turned and made my way to the nearest bus stop, where I catch the 9 bus home as I always do.

There was no one else waiting at the bus stop, and I checked the time on my watch.

_18:02. _The bus should be arriving in a couple minutes, and if everything goes as usual, I should be home in about twenty minutes, in time for Mags to finish up in the kitchen for supper.

It was then that I spotted Fred approaching from a block down, and I arched my eyebrows as the blonde spotted me.

_What does he want now? _I wondered to myself just as Fred approached me.

"What?" I asked in greeting.

"Heading home after whatever it is you're doing at the radio station, Rogers?" Fred asked.

"Yeah." I shrugged as my insides began to tighten briefly. "What's going on?"

Chances are that Fred's still having issue with my painkiller use, but whatever, I shouldn't answer to hypocrites like Fred Jones, regardless of whether or not Vice Principal Grimes gets involved in this later on.

"I just found a match to the shoeprint you discovered last night at the park." Fred replied, and I relaxed briefly.

"Oh, that." I said. "And?"

"The print belongs to that of a size eleven Dunlop Sports sneaker." Fred explained.

I whistled. Size eleven is a pretty large shoe size.

"So our suspect has rather large feet." I offered.

"Yeah, pretty much." Fred shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to know."

"Have you told the girls yet?" I wondered.

Fred shook his head. "You're the first in our group who I figured would be free this time of the day."

"Right, right." I nodded thoughtfully. "Like, in that case, what's next?"

Fred paused his lips as he stared at me briefly, then he said, "I've got an idea, but I don't think you're gonna like it, Rogers."

_Blast! _What sort of a mess am I getting myself into?

* * *

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	7. A theory and at the police station

Chapter 7: A theory and at the police station

**(Third Person)**

Around the same time Fred told Shaggy of the developments, over at the Dinkley residence, Velma and her sister Madelyn were busy preparing dinner with their mother.

By that point, the vegetables were washed and their mother Cassandra was directing them to cut the broccoli and carrots.

"Now, make sure you girls cut the pieces in similar sizes so they will be cooked faster and more evenly." Cassandra was saying when the living room telephone rang.

Velma and Madelyn both nodded just as their mother head out of the kitchen, and the sisters resumed chopping the vegetables.

"So what were you doing yesterday evening over at the Fred Quimby Park, Velma?" Madelyn asked.

"Oh, it was just for hanging out with friends." Velma shrugged nonchalantly.

"You never struck me as the type that would hang out with friends." Madelyn remarked. "What did you guys do?"

"Took a hike around the trail and meeting at the bonfire." Velma replied.

"And those friends were with you the whole time, right?" Madelyn raised an eyebrow as she turned towards her sister.

"Of course." Velma nodded. "With a killer wolf out there lurking in the streets, we didn't take any chances and stayed together in a group."

"And the fact that you're back here with no scars whatsoever means that you guys didn't encounter the wolf." Madelyn spoke.

"Pretty much, yeah." Velma said. "The last thing I'd want is to end up as wolf chow, so to speak."

"You don't say." Madelyn murmured. "In any way, we really need to be careful going out, especially after sunset."

"Of course." Velma agreed as she turned towards her sister. "With that killer wolf still on the loose and the authorities no closer to finding it, we definitely need to be on our guard."

"Especially since word has it that the killer wolf has been snatching girls from their bedrooms as well." Madelyn nodded. "Not to mention...Velma, watch out!"

Before Velma could heed Madelyn's warning, she suddenly felt a sharp pain on her index finger, and she let out an instinctive "Ow!" as she quickly put down the knife.

Madelyn immediately put down the knife she was holding and rushed to Velma's aid, during which it can be seen that the knife Velma was using had some blood on the blade.

"Jinkies, we shouldn't be chatting while chopping the vegetables, Maddie." Velma said as Madelyn examined the cut on her finger.

Madelyn nodded as she examined the cut, and then she said, "Doesn't look too bad, Velma. Nothing a simple Band-Aid can't take care of."

Velma nodded thoughtfully as she looked at the cut on her finger, then suddenly an idea hit her as the cut reminded her of the descriptions of the crime scene Fred provided to her while they were waiting for Shaggy, Scooby and Daphne to show up.

VELMA'S MIND EYE - One Day Ago

_"Long story short, from what I understood, the whole living room in the victim's house was completely smashed up."_ Fred's voice echoed as an illustration of the smashed up living room appeared.

Velma frowned as she paused her lips, during which she illustrated the struggle between the wolf-like intruder and the victim.

As the wolf-like intruder threw the victim towards the coffee table and the sofa, smashing up the former in the process, Velma echoed_, "Signs that are consistent with that of a struggle inside the house."_

She then turned towards Fred as she continued, _"As if the victim tried to fight off the intruder."_

It was then that she illustrated the wolf-like intruder using its claws trying to claw at the victim, who managed to duck out of the way just as the intruder clawed right onto the wall, leaving claw marks.

However, the claws immediately detached from the intruder's paws, and just as the victim delivered a kick to the intruder, a knife was suddenly pulled out.

As Velma illustrated the victim fighting off the intruder, who was now armed with a knife, Fred echoed, "_It was clear that the victim had put up quite the fight, and so the intruder resorted to other measures._"

With the illustration of the intruder leaving behind knife marks on the wall, which was evident that the intruder kept missing the victim as she ducked the knife attacks and kept moving away from the intruder.

Eventually, Velma illustrated the part where the intruder managed to catch up and used the knife on the victim, resulting in the blood splatter Fred described.

"_Clearly, though,_ _the resistance the victim put up wasn't enough to stop the intruder._" Velma echoed.

"_Especially with the blood splatter at the scene._" Fred nodded. "_The_ _intruder must've used its claws on the victim before taking advantage of the cries of pain and knocked her out cold._"

As Fred made the remark, the illustration showed the part where the intruder tied up its latest victim, where prior to taking leave, it grabbed the detached claws from the wall and tossed them onto the now-damaged coffee table, where the victim was stabbed by the knife held by the intruder.

The claws rolled over to the blood splatter and stopped as the viscosity of the victim's blood prevented it from rolling further.

END VELMA'S MIND EYE

At that revelation, Velma glanced up in realization and turned towards Madelyn, who had just finished applying the Band-Aid onto her index finger.

"What's the matter, Velma?" Madelyn asked when she saw the weird look on Velma's face.

Velma glanced towards the kitchen entrance, just in time to hear her mother hang up the phone.

With their mother walking back to the kitchen, Velma swiftly turned towards Madelyn and said, "I just remembered something about a school project that I have yet to discuss with my classmates."

She then made her way out of the kitchen as she added, "Just need to make a quick phone call."

"Don't you think that your friend would be having dinner by now?" Madelyn asked, though Velma was, by that point, out of earshot as she rounded the corner.

* * *

Daphne was seated at her usual spot at the dining table with her family as the family butler Jenkins places the main courses onto the table.

Watching Jenkins placing the meatloaf onto the middle of the dining table, Daphne kept her hands on her lap before she glanced at her father George and her other sisters like she always does.

The plates and utensils were already positioned, and Jenkins was soon joined by Elizabeth as she arrived with a tray of stir-fried vegetables.

As soon as the food was set on the table, George glanced at his daughters and nodded firmly, a signal for them to start loading up their plates.

Just as Jenkins and Elizabeth joined in and loaded up their respective plates, the telephone rang, and the butler immediately paused before making his way to the telephone.

"Who could be calling at this hour?" George wondered as Elizabeth helped fill up Jenkins' plate with mashed potatoes.

Elizabeth and their daughters all shrugged just as Jenkins stepped back into the dining room and said, "A call for Master Daphne."

Immediately, Daphne arched her eyebrows as she stood up from her seat, during which her parents and older sisters turned towards her.

"Were you expecting a call from someone, dear?" Elizabeth asked.

Daphne shook her head as she stepped out of the dining room. "No, though I won't be surprised if it's someone calling from the paper about an article I've edited and have some questions to ask before the deadline approaches, Mom."

George only grunted as Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully, and Daphne swiftly made her way to the living room and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Daphne asked.

"Hi, Daph." Velma answered on the other end. "It's me, Velma. I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."

Daphne glanced over her shoulder briefly before saying, "Well, I was just about to start having dinner when you called, Velma, so it's fine. What's up?"

"It's about the case, Daph." Velma explained. "I was thinking about something about the latest victim."

"Right, right." Daphne nodded. "Whatever it is you've thought of, you better be quick, Velma, because my parents can get picky over me using the phone for too long."

"Of course." Velma nodded. "In that case, all I can say is that there's a very good chance that the victim was attacked with a knife by the culprit. If you remember Fred's description of the wounds on the first victim's body, they could've been from a knife, not from an animal."

There was a pause from Daphne's end of the line, and Velma figured that the redhead was thinking it over.

Finally, Daphne said, "Okay, that's good to know. We're gonna have to figure out how did you reach that conclusion, but for now, it's a solid theory, Velma. I was thinking if you would like to meet up tomorrow afternoon at the library so we could talk this over?"

"Sounds good to me, Daph." Velma replied. "I'm free tomorrow afternoon, so it works with me. Would you like me to tell Fred and the others about meeting at the library tomorrow afternoon?"

Daphne winced briefly before she shook her head. "Let's hold off on that end until we get a better lay of the land on your knife theory, Velma. We're gonna need to take a look at the police files on the Killer Werewolf case, specifically the crime scene reports, before we can know for sure if your knife theory holds up."

"Are you sure you wanna go down that avenue of the investigation, Daph?" Velma frowned.

"Like I said, this is just for me to confirm this outright." Daphne said. "After all, I'm sure it would be of great resource for us to see what the cops are thinking at this stage of their investigation, stuff that wouldn't be read on the paper."

Velma sighed, but then she nodded reluctantly. "Point taken. In that case, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

_October 12, 1968_

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

I still can't figure what could've possessed me to answer a knock on the front door and open it when a view through the peep hole revealed Daphne Blake to be standing on the other side of the front door this morning.

Is she attractive? Of course she is, like, I'm sure there's no way a guy wouldn't turn into a wolf with his heart thumping out of his chest and steam rolling from his ears at the sight of Daphne.

Is she beautiful? Of course yes. Even without makeup, I'm sure guys would find themselves under her spell at the sight of her.

Is she arrogant, annoying and pushy? Well apparently, lady doesn't seem to be able to take "no" for an answer when I answered her this morning.

"You know, I could really use your help here, Shaggy." Daphne said as I stood at the front doorway with my hand leaning on the frame.

There she is, standing in front of the front door to my house as if it was no big deal, as if someone like her has a chance of fitting into this predominantly-middle class neighbourhood even though her father makes pretty much ten times the amount of money most people in the neighbourhood makes.

I glanced around as she stood in front of me. I could've slammed the door in her face, and **believe me**, my instincts are telling me to close the doggone door right now!

However, I knew better than doing that. After all, slamming a door in a lady's face is no way to be a gentleman, no matter how much of a royal pain in the neck she is, plus I don't suppose Mags is gonna appreciate the way I did that.

So instead, I just stared back at her and folded my arms.

"Aren't you gonna say something?" Daphne asked.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?" Daphne asked.

"Why should I say something when all you need to do is get a firm grasp of the obvious?" I frowned. "Like, this particular neighbourhood isn't exactly fond of your family friend who's running for Congress, and I'm sure you've got better things to do right now instead of standing here in front of _my_ house."

I wasn't lying when I made that remark. I knew for a fact that many of my neighbours, most of them lower to middle-middle class, aren't very fond of Barty Daggett, much less the mayor as well.

Daphne huffed, then she frowned as she said, "You really should've taken my advice that day when we were at the radio station. I haven't even had the chance to explain why I'm here and you're already shutting me down."

"Okay, then explain why you're here." I said as I motioned her to come in.

Daphne followed me into the house as I closed the door, and I led her to the kitchen and gestured at a chair for her to sit at.

"Before you start, you want something to drink?" I asked as she took a seat.

Daphne looked on as I opened the fridge, and then she asked, "You mind if I get a glass of milk?"

I shrugged as I grabbed the bottle of milk. "You got it."

Once I poured the milk into a glass and handed it to Daphne, she immediately sipped away. Sheez, she must've been thirsty.

"Alright, so fire away." I said once she put her glass on the table as I stood in front of her.

"So this is something that I thought would be an interesting route for the case to go through." Daphne began. "And given that it was my idea, I'm sure it doesn't hurt for me to run through it, right?"

I simply maintained the deadpan on my face with my arms folded, and Daphne sighed.

"Only problem is that for it to work, I need a dog, and since I don't have one-"

"That's where Scooby comes in." I interjected.

"Yeah, pretty much." Daphne nodded. "Anyways, I was thinking that since we don't have a clear picture of what the h*ll is going on, I figured that the police could provide a better lay of the land for us to get a better grasp of the obvious."

"And how does Scooby fit into this plan of yours?" I snorted. I didn't like the direction this is heading.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind using Scooby as a means of distraction at the station while I get the information I need for the case." Daphne replied.

_I knew it_. I thought as I looked away and digested what Daphne had just told me.

Then, I turned back towards her and said, "Like, let's say that I agree to help you out. What exactly do you want me to do in front of the cops?"

"Really?" Daphne's hands moved to her hips. "You can't even think of some plan for Scooby to distract the cops while I go in?"

_How stupid does she think I am? _I wondered. "Well, you really want whatever I think of to end up backfiring on us later on?"

Daphne scoffed as she opened her mouth, about to counter my remark, when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Norville?" A voice asked, and I turned around.

There stood Maggie halfway down the stairs, still in her pajamas, and she was glancing towards me and Daphne in the kitchen with tired look in her eyes.

"Yeah, Mags." I responded. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just heard you arguing with someone down here and thought you need help." Maggie replied.

"Nah, I've got it covered, Mags." I said. "You having breakfast now?"

"Sure." Maggie nodded as she resumed walking down the stairs, and I glanced at Daphne and nodded towards the kitchen door.

Daphne got up from her seat just as Maggie made her way into the kitchen, during which I added, "Pops working until six, so make sure to remind me to have dinner ready before he gets home at seven."

Maggie nodded as she reached for a box of cereal, and I motioned Daphne to follow me to the living room.

Just as we were making our way out of the kitchen, Maggie suddenly said, "Are you going to the radio station later this afternoon, Norville?"

"Of course." I nodded as we paused briefly. "I'm not missing the opportunity to present my first radio drama with Mr. Kasem today, so yeah, I'm heading over there after lunch."

"Okay, then." Maggie nodded before she resumed pouring her cereal for breakfast.

Once Daphne and I settled in the living room, during which Scooby perked up as he lay on the nearby carpet, we both took a seat at the sofa.

"Is she..." Daphne was pointing towards the kitchen, during which I nodded.

"Yeah." I said. "That's Margaret, my sister. She's in Riverwood next door to Central."

"I see." Daphne nodded. "She looks like she could use a fashion tip or two."

I looked at her briefly. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind it."

Daphne smiled briefly, and this time I can see the warmth and sincerity in it, though it disappeared immediately as she returned to seriousness, specifically what we were discussing before getting interrupted by Mags.

"Either way, what exactly makes you think that I can do it?" I asked. "Like, I'm sure Fred and Velma could get it done without the need of a dog. In fact, for someone who thinks of me as a slacker, other than having Scooby, why me?"

Daphne sighed. "Well, for starters, Fred's got extra football practice, plus he doesn't know anything about what Velma and I discussed last night, and Velma's tutoring someone right now and I've promised to meet with her this afternoon at the library with the police's take on the whole case."

"And I suppose you both are holding off on telling Fred about it until you get a look at the police files and have a better lay of the land on the case." I responded. "In that case, like, why didn't you tell me that earlier? Could've saved me the trouble of waking Mags up."

"Didn't think it was relevant." Daphne replied with a shrug.

"Then, maybe you should take your own advice on making assumptions." I frowned.

Daphne only stared at me quizzically before saying, "Just get ready to roll in half an hour, I don't have all morning."

* * *

"Can I help you, sir?" The desk sergeant at the Central Division asked me.

I glanced at the man's nameplate. _McBride_.

He's most likely the division's watch commander, judging from the three chevrons and rocker on his sleeve, not to mention Pops mentioning his name here and there when talking about work.

"Uh...yes, Sergeant." I swallowed as I racked my brain for some of the plot elements I've went through with Mr. Kasem on the police radio drama he and I did a few times before. "I was, um, walking my dog at the Fred Quimby Park earlier and we, uh, spotted some bones near the trails."

The sergeant adjusted his glasses briefly before he nodded understandingly. "What sort of bones are we talking about here? Human?"

_What's the right answer? _I thought as I glanced around briefly. What's taking Daphne so long?

"Uh...can't say for sure." I quickly said. "They looked a little human to me, but I'm no doctor or scientist, so can't say for sure."

That's a relief, the sergeant seems to be buying into my story, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You wanna take a look at photos of samples of bones out there that are the most commonly found and reported by citizens?" McBride asked. "Then just give us a quick minute."

As soon as the sergeant finished, he flagged down an officer getting coffee nearby and continued, "Douglas, mind if you grab the booklet of animal bones and show it to this gentleman here?"

"Right away, Sarge." The officer nodded before he took off, and I glanced at McBride, who turned his attention back to the chart he was holding.

It was then that I glanced around when I heard a pair of footsteps approaching from behind me, and I turned around.

There was Daphne. I gotta say she's got perfect timing in this.

The redhead glanced at me briefly and nodded, then she swiftly made her way to the nearest desk manned by another officer and leaned forward.

"Can I help you, miss?" The officer asked her.

"Yes, my name is Daphne Blake and I'm with the _Gazette._" Daphne quickly explained. "The paper's planning to publish a piece providing an in-depth analysis on the initial investigation into the Alice May case, and my editor asked me to come down and talk to someone about the brilliant job that was done on the case."

In referring to the Alice May case, Daphne was referring to the first victim of the string of disappearances attributed to the Killer Werewolf that is still at large to this day and has claimed several more victims.

I gotta say that she knew how to get straight to the point right away, and the officer seemed to be catching onto her drift.

"And you would like to speak to the person in charge of the case." The officer asked, and Daphne nodded. "In that case, I'd be happy to help you, Miss Blake. After all, I was on patrol that fateful night when I got the call to respond to the distress put forward by the victim's parents."

"Ah, perfect." Daphne smiled. "Is there any place we could sit down and discuss the case, Officer?"

"Of course." The officer said before nodding at a nearby conference room and continued, "We can discuss in that conference room over there."

As I watched Daphne following the cop into the conference room, I saw Officer Douglas returning with a binder in hand, and I quickly joined him at the front desk.

"Alright, then." Douglas said as he placed the binder down and opened it. "What did the bones you spotted at the park look like?"

I leaned forward to take a look at the binder and frowned. To me, the black-and-white photos of the various bones looked almost identical.

_Blast! I probably should've paid more attention in biology class last year._ I almost grumbled to myself. Nothing I can do about barely passing biology now.

As I began to flip through the pages, the officer added, "If you need the time to recall what exactly did the bones look like, by all means take your time."

I nodded, though I wasn't exactly listening to Douglas' remark, as my ears were more focused on the muffled conversation between Daphne and the officer at the nearby conference room.

Just then, a radio call burst to life and I almost jumped in shock.

"Code Two, Code Two." The party at the other end of the radio reported in, and immediately, the two officers accompanying me keyed in to listen.

With one eye on the booklet and the other glancing at the expressions of the officers, I saw the look on Douglas and McBride's faces darken as the party at the other end of the radio reports an armed robbery at Higginton that has descended into a hostage situation and the request for backup.

Immediately, McBride nodded at Douglas and the officer swiftly raced towards the station's rear entrance, stopping by the locker room for his weapon and cap.

As that was happening, McBride returned to his desk and picked up the phone and punched in a three-digit extension number.

Flipping through the pages of the booklet, I glanced around just in time for McBride's phone call to be put through.

"Yeah, Lieutenant." McBride spoke. "We've got a hostage situation at the Neighborhood Grocers in Higginton, sir. The guys are lookin' for a crisis negotiator to defuse the situation before we get casualties."

A pause went by before the sergeant continued, "Yeah, sir. Obviously we don't want this to turn into another situation like the one in Austin two years back."

I began to perk up as the sergeant nodded. "Being a former Marine, I'm sure you don't, sir."

_Oh drat! _I think I just realized that McBride was speaking to Dad, and he's about to head over this way at any moment now.

As McBride hung up the phone and turned towards me, I quickly threw another brief glance at the conference room. What the devil is taking Daphne so long?

"You found anything?" McBride asked me, and I paused as I quickly glanced at the pages of the booklet.

With my mind racing, I quickly pointed at one particular photo.

"Like, the bones my dog and I spotted at the park looked like this, Sergeant." I said.

McBride leaned forward to take a closer look at the photo I was pointing at, and I swallowed as I waited for his reply, hoping that it's something that's not too serious.

Fortunately, I seemed to have hit the jackpot, as the sergeant exhaled and said, "In that case, what you and your dog discovered was the remains of a deer that probably got mauled by a wolf long ago. Nothing to worry about."

I exhaled in relief. If it was human remains that I was pointing at, I could be in serious trouble, especially since the bones I spoke of didn't actually exist.

My relief was short-lived, though, as it was that moment that everything collided.

First off, a couple pair of footsteps approached me from behind, and I turned around and froze when I recognized Fred.

Fred, likewise, did a double-take when he saw me at the front desk, and he sputtered, "Shaggy?"

"Uh...hey, man." I quickly said.

"You know him, son?" The man accompanying Fred, who I assumed to be his father, asked.

The blonde nodded. "He's in a few classes with me, though we never spoke to each other."

Then, he turned towards me again and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I-" I began, only for me to be interrupted as the conference room door opened and out came Daphne, the officer and another man that I apparently didn't notice had walked into the conference room to join her and the officer earlier, probably at the moment that radio call came in.

"Thank you so much for your time, guys." Daphne was saying as she followed the two men out of the room. "It's greatly appreciated."

"Daphne?" Fred barked, and Daphne paused as she spotted me and him. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh-" Before Daphne could explain, another voice joined the fray.

"Neville, what the h*ll were you doing in the conference room?" The voice barked, and I froze as I recognized Dad.

Just then, I turned inwards towards the interior of the station, in time for Dad to pause and narrow his eyes when he spotted me.

"Norville." Dad barked, and I swallowed as he approached me.

Fred and Daphne almost immediately turned towards me, and I can feel McBride and Fred's father's eyes on me as Dad approached us. "What the h*ll is going on here?"

Before I could respond, McBride said, "He was here to report some bone sightings at the Fred Quimby Park, sir."

"Oh, is that right?" Dad asked as he glared at me questioningly.

"Uh...yes, sir." I replied meekly, and Dad grunted as he digested my words and McBride's explanation, though the frown on his face grew when he saw Fred and Daphne.

Dad turned around and barked at Neville, "Were you and Norton in that conference room speaking to that Blake daughter, Neville?"

"Yes, we were thinking that it would be helpful if we lent her some information for the paper to be put out that could help us in the case, sir." Neville responded.

Dad twitched his eyebrows, and I could tell that he didn't like Neville's answer one bit. He also certainly looked like that he knew that I wasn't here at the station to report the bone sighting.

Thankfully, instead of blowing up like I expected him to do, Dad spoke to them in a clam but firm voice.

"Make this the last time you speak to members of the press without my approval, gentlemen." He said with a clear tone of authority in his voice. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lieutenant." Both men replied before they hurried off to whatever they were doing.

Of course, I'm not off the hook just yet, as Dad immediately turned towards me.

"I'm in a rush to get to a crime scene, so consider yourself lucky that I don't have the time to deal with whatever racket you had just cooked up, Norville." Dad said calmly before nodding at Fred and Daphne and added, "However, I want you to provide a full explanation on what were you doing here at the station with those two first thing when I get home tonight."

I could've sworn that Dad had just cooled the whole station down by ten degrees with that patented glare on his face as he asked, "Do I make this message loud and clear, son?"

I swallowed before nodding. "Yes, Dad."

"Good." Dad responded before he marched out of the station without another word.

A short minute later, Fred's father looked at him firmly, as if to tell him to wait for him at the station, before he walked into the station with his briefcase in hand, which leaves the watch commander accompanying me, Fred and Daphne.

"Is there anything else you three would like to do before s**t hits the fan?" McBride asked. "If not, then get the h*ll out of here before you find yourselves in bigger trouble."

Immediately, the three of us raced out of the station without another word, and we stopped at where I've left Scooby.

For several long moments, there was an awkward silence between the three of us.

Eventually, Fred broke the silence as he turned towards me and Daphne and asked, "What the h*ll just happened?"

* * *

**Please read and review!**


	8. A promising lead

Chapter 8: A promising lead

Fred certainly looked pissed as Daphne and I glanced at each other awkwardly at his question, and Scooby perked up as he tapped his foot.

"Or more to the point, would you guys mind explaining what were you doing in there?" Fred continued as he gestured at the station house entrance.

"Well, this was something that Velma and I thought of last night, namely with her coming up with a theory." Daphne said. "We were thinking of discussing the theory over in greater detail once I have a good look at what the police are thinking and then letting you guys know in our next meeting."

"As in you girls want to get a better lay of the land before letting us know about the theory you've came up with." Fred folded his arms as he nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds reasonable, though the least you girls could've done is giving me a heads up."

"We weren't expecting you to be tagging along with your father." Daphne said. "Didn't you have practice this morning?"

"I thought so too, until one of the guys had to cancel on us due to an unforeseen family emergency." Fred explained. "The guy that cancelled on us plays a crucial role on the team, so without him, the other guys and I decide to reschedule the practice to another time. And since I've got nothing else to do, what better way for me to pass the time than to tag along with my Dad?"

Daphne and I glanced at each other briefly, then she folded her arms as well before turning towards Fred.

Fred certainly looked like he had something else to say, but Daphne quickly beat him to it.

"Right." Daphne nodded. "I'm sure you're curious on what I've found, and rest assured, if you'd like to find out, then you are welcome to drop by the library this afternoon, Fred."

Fred looked like he was ready to counter her remark, though I noticed the change in his facial expression as he pondered Daphne's offer, then he nodded thoughtfully.

"Very well, then." Fred sighed before he raised a finger sternly and added, "But make this the last time you do something like this, Daph."

"Of course." Daphne nodded.

It was then that Sergeant McBride stepped out of the station briefly, and at his gaze, we turned towards him.

"Mr. Jones." McBride nodded at Fred. "Your old man needs you in there."

Fred glanced at Daphne and I briefly before he joined the sergeant and made his way back into the station, leaving me with Scooby and Daphne outside.

Another long awkward silence followed, then Daphne glanced around before she turned towards me.

"I gotta say you're one full of surprises, Shaggy." Daphne said.

"How?" I raised an eyebrow, though I've got a pretty good idea on what she meant.

"When I first saw you, I was always under the impression that your father is..." She trailed off briefly before continuing, "...you know."

I scoffed and shook my head as she nodded at the station and continued, "Never have I imagined that he'd be in a position of authority in the police department of all places."

"Like, you certainly need to take your own advice and stop making assumptions about others, especially when said someone is who you consider to be a 'slacker'." I folded my arms.

"I honestly wouldn't have thought that your policeman father would be very laid back when it comes to bringing you and your sister up, namely encouraging you to stop being a slacker and making you think twice on taking drugs." Daphne said before frowning and added, "That is, unless you and your father are-"

"You certainly don't know a single thing about me or my family." I quickly cut in before she could finish. "But then again, why bother when you've already had your mind made up about me and my family."

Daphne only paused her lips at my last remark as I leaned on the nearby stand at the bottom of the railing along the stairs leading to the station entrance.

"Fair enough." Daphne folded her arms as well. "In any way, what's the issue with your father anyway?"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"I'm sure he doesn't exactly like it when his men speak to members of the press without approval. However, it sounded like he was singling me out in there." Daphne explained. "What sort of beef does he have with me?"

"Search me." I shrugged. "Like, I never spoke to him about you and he barely knows you, I'm sure."

Daphne nodded, during which I continued, "However, I do know for a fact that your father served in the Marines during the war, and given that my father was a Marine himself, chances are that he served with your father together and something happened."

When Daphne stared at me with a surprised look on her face, I shrugged. "What? Isn't it common knowledge that your father was a Marine before he started his company after the war?"

Daphne simply waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind."

Glancing at my wristwatch, I noticed the time and realized that it was almost noon.

"Anyways." I said as I untied Scooby's leash. "I gotta head home to feed Scoob now, not to mention that I'm starving."

"Right." Daphne said. "You meeting up with us this afternoon?"

I stared at her briefly. "Are you going to go through what you've found in there?"

"Yes." Daphne nodded. "You coming?"

I sighed. "Like, if what you've found in there is gonna be worth whatever talk Pops is about to have with me, then you might as well as count me in."

"Perfect." Daphne smiled briefly. "Then, we'll see you this afternoon at the library."

* * *

So as things turned out, Velma had theorized that it was very likely that the victim was attacked by someone armed a knife, and from what Daphne had gathered from the autopsy reports Detective Neville provided, the fatal wounds on the first victim of the Killer Werewolf bore resemblance to stab wounds.

In addition, the preliminary crime scene report from the latest case detailed the "claw marks" on the wall and the fatal wounds on the first victim's body shares the same thickness and depths, further surmising the likelihood that the same knife was used in these killings.

"So we're basically looking at a hunting knife with a chisel-shaped blade." Fred offered once both Velma and Daphne went through what they've got.

I wasn't exactly listening to what was discussed, though Velma's sketch of a hunting knife with a chisel-shaped blade on her notepad was what I was staring at during most of the conversation.

"That's about right." Daphne nodded.

"Which also means that we're gonna have to find a way to get a list of people that had recently purchased a chisel-shaped hunting knife." Fred continued.

"When you said 'recently', Fred, you mean that a short while before the first victim was abducted and later murdered by the Killer Werewolf?" I offered.

"Exactly, Shag." Fred nodded as he and the girls turned towards me, during which I noticed a certain look on their faces.

_Darn it_. I thought. I really don't like the way they're all looking at me right now.

In fact, I think I've got a very good idea on what they've got in mind right now, and there's no way in h*ll that they're gonna talk me into doing this, not even when h*ll freezes over.

"Oh, no." I quickly shook my head. Me and my big mouth.

"Oh yes, Shag." Fred nodded at me. "We need someone who won't stand out in shady places that can get us the information we need to solve this case."

"And I won't stand out, like, how?" I demanded.

"Well, let's just say that you won't raise any eyebrows when folks see you in the area, unlike the other three of us." Fred pointed out.

I wanted to argue otherwise, but Fred's got a point there. Being the son of an assistant district attorney running for District Attorney, Fred couldn't risk raising eyebrows when spotted in the area.

I'm also sure that shady people in the area would recognize Daphne right away, and considering how much her father is in cahoots with State Senator Daggett, that leaves her out the list.

Then, there's Velma. I most certainly don't blame Fred for deciding against asking Velma to do this, since she would definitely stand out like a sore thumb in the crowd there, not to mention her glasses and her demeanor would suggest that she's got better things to do than hanging around the shady area.

Even then, I still don't like this idea at all.

"Right, though with that area crawling with shady characters, that makes me so want to go." I grumbled.

"Look, Shag, you're the only guy that can get around the area without raisin' any eyebrows." Fred said. "And besides, it's not like any of those guys would think of hurtin' ya when you bring your dog with you."

I only stared at Fred blankly, and I could've sworn that Daphne and Velma were also staring at him the same way as I am.

"Like, was that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked.

Fred turned towards the girls, and he raised his arms upon seeing the blank looks on their faces.

"Never mind that." He waved his right hand. "But point is, whatever you would find at the pawn shop could be of great help for us to get to the bottom of this, Shag."

"Right, not to mention giving my Pops just another reason to justify grounding me later on when he has that talk with me once he finds out what I'm about to do." I huffed as I folded my arms.

Fred glanced at Daphne, and from the look on their faces, I can tell that they're thinking about this morning's unexpected encounter with Pops at the police station.

"From what Fred told me about your unexpected encounter with your Dad at the police station, it sounds to me that he takes issue with those that takes the law into their own hands, Shaggy." Velma remarked.

"He does, though it seems like he has a bigger issue with Daphne digging around." I nodded at the redhead. "In fact, like, you should've seen what he referred to Daphne when he called out Detective Neville for speaking to her."

Velma turned towards Daphne, who shrugged.

"Well, either way, Shaggy, do you really want to allow your father to continue to dictate what you can or cannot do?" Daphne asked.

That one came right out of left field for me, though I quickly shook my head. "Of course not, though I hope you're not implying that my Dad isn't doing his job properly."

"I'm sure he's doing whatever he can in closing the case, Shag." Daphne said. "However, I'm confident that he will eventually come to appreciate that we decide to step in and help close this case, because whatever is going on out there has been happening for far too long, and who knows how many more victims the Killer Werewolf could claim if we don't step up and the police investigation continues at this pace."

"Like, I'd rather not know." I quickly shook my head, not that I'm disagreeing with what Daphne just said.

"There you go." Daphne nodded as she looked at me in the eye. "And besides, if you play your part in helping sorting this mess out, wouldn't you be proving to your Dad that you're independent enough to make your own decisions and that you don't need him to worry about you?"

I sighed. I suppose being a journalist in training, Daphne could certainly read people and she sure has read my mind right there.

"Fine." I finally said. "Then, let's just make sure that this doesn't blow up in our faces again, guys."

"Not to worry, Shag." Fred patted on my shoulder. "Not if I can help it."

* * *

"Can I help you with anythin', bud?" The scary dude behind the counter asked me gruffly.

I was busy staring around the store when the dude asked me the question, and upon turning around, I could've sworn that I might just need to make a quick trip to the washroom.

Blessed mother of everything holy imaginable, the dude behind the front counter has a face tattoo, and of all the things he has a tattoo of, the dude just have to have a snake tattoo on his face.

With the white vest he's wearing and his hair pretty much trimmed short, not to mention the tattoos on those muscular arms of his, the dude certainly looked like he might've served time at Alcatraz before it was closed down as a prison in '63 and is a member of some biker gang.

He was drawing a cigarette as he looked at me questioningly, and I knew that this wasn't a very wise idea, and I'm pretty certain that should word get out on what I'm doing right now, I might as well confess to Pops on the list of things I've done and it won't make much of a difference on his punishment.

Swallowing, I faced the scary dude as I replied, "Like, I'm, uh, just looking around for hunting knives and see if you could, uh, give some information on them."

Scary Dude sort of relaxed a bit at my remark, and then he nodded as he said, "Of course, I can help you with that, pal. I do need a name, though."

"Sure." I shrugged. "Maynard."

I said the name without thinking, it just popped into my mind for some reason.

"Maynard." The dude repeated in a way that seemed like I might've insulted him. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Don't know." I shrugged again. "Though then again, it's not as corny as some other names like Maycock."

The minute the words flew out of my mouth, I realized that I might've just signed my will with a remark like that.

At least I stopped myself from listing my real name as an example, don't wanna take any chances in him finding out on me and potentially murder me in my sleep.

Fortunately, the scary dude relaxed a bit as he nodded thoughtfully.

"Point taken." The dude said. "In that case, what are ye lookin' for?"

"Any particular hunting knives that are very handy but also rare." I replied.

"Hmm." The dude nodded again. "In that case, you're out of luck, bud. The Mortin Hunting Knife is very popular with knife enthusiasts but they're very rare, since they don't make 'em no more. I had couple here for sale from some guys lookin' to make extra dough, but them knives were sold couple months ago."

"Dang." I remarked, trying to sound deeply disappointed, not that it was difficult for me to do so when I've had plenty of practice on radio drama shows. "And no one is lookin' to sell any of those knives here right now?"

"No." The dude shook his head. "Like I said, it's very popular with knife enthusiasts, but since they don't make 'em no more, it makes the Mortin Hunting Knife a valuable collectors item. I would say that until someone else decides to come forward and sell another Mortin, you're out of luck, bud."

As the dude made the remark, he pulled out a booklet and flipped through the pages before stopping and pointed his index finger at one particular photo.

"See?" He asked as he pointed at the photo, and I leaned forward to take a closer look at it. "The chisel-shaped blade of the Mortin makes it very handy for both cuttin' through thick bush and skinnin' game."

I nodded. Just as Fred described the wounds on the first Werewolf victim and the claw marks in the room of the latest victims.

I wasn't even interested in getting a knife, let alone a Mortin, though I knew that I have to work fast if I want to finish this conversation up and get out of here, because right about now, two sketchy-looking guys just walked into the store.

And judging from their muscular arms and the tattoos on their biceps, I can bet that they're here to do business with the face tattoo dude behind the counter.

"Right." I quickly said. "In any case, you got the names and addresses of the dudes that bought the Mortin? Thought I could pay them a visit and ask them to demonstrate just how good the knife is and whether or not it's as good as folks say."

The face tattoo dude narrowed his eyes as he rubbed his fingers, and I glanced around briefly.

The two sketchy dudes weren't looking towards me or the counter right now, and I immediately reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple of $20 bills.

Placing them on the counter, the face tattoo dude arched his eyebrows briefly before he took the cash and examined it, then he nodded.

"Wait a sec." The dude said to me, then he disappeared into the room behind the doorway briefly.

I drummed my fingers on the counter as I waited, and I glanced towards the nearby clock.

_5:18. Zoinks! _Dude better not take all day in the room back there, because I can feel those two sketchy dudes behind me.

Fortunately, face tattoo guy was quick as he returned with a booklet and placed it down on the counter.

Putting on his glasses, the dude flipped through the pages, eventually stopping at a couple of names.

He then tore out a page from a notepad and wrote something down, then he handed the paper to me.

"Here are the names and addresses." Dude said. "They're the ones that bought the remaining Mortin knives couple months ago. This you lookin' for?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I nodded as I took the paper from him, briefly scanned the names and addresses before folding the paper and placed it into my pocket. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, kid." The dude nodded and smiled briefly.

I nodded back at him before taking that as a cue to get out of this sketchy place.

As soon as I got out of the store, I quickly untied Scooby from the lamp post and led him down the sidewalk until I was several blocks away from that sketchy place.

Once I was sure that no one else was around, I pulled the paper out from my pocket and unfolded it.

Walter Kinsella and Roy Graham. Not exactly the sort of names you wanna hear in this city on a daily basis when you follow the election and all that.

But right now, those two guys are our main leads, and one of them owns a knife that has been used in the Killer Werewolf murders.

All I need to do now is provide the names to Fred, and hopefully he will do his thing and get the means for us to get to the bottom of this, and by that, I mean soon.

Because during this time, who knows when the Killer Werewolf is gonna strike next, and when he does, who's gonna be his next victim?

* * *

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	9. Revelations and at the hospital

Chapter 9: Revelations and at the hospital

_October 13, 1968_

**(Third Person)**

It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon as Fred and his pals took part in their football practice as usual at the Fred Quimby Park.

Fred certainly didn't like the looks of the dark clouds in the sky. Sure, he and the team have played a number of games and practiced under rainfall, but for this particular afternoon, the clouds were particularly dark.

He could've sworn that he heard thunder in the distance, and he can feel that the wind was starting to pick up.

At present, their head coach, Jackson Clay, was busy helping new members of the team in their practice, which leaves Fred to toss the ball around with Ethan and Dylan.

"Heard on the radio that it's gonna start pourin' right about now and into the evening." Dylan remarked as he caught the ball tossed by Fred.

"Wouldn't I know it." Fred nodded as he tossed the ball towards Ethan and glanced towards where Coach Clay was at.

Seeing that one of the new kids stumbling during a tackle practice, the blonde scoffed.

Ethan, who also noticed the stumbling, tossed the ball towards Dylan as he said, "The sooner Coach Clay finishes up with those wimps and gets us inside, the better."

"No sh*t, Sherlock." Dylan replied. "Though knowin' those new dudes that made the team and the coach, don't suppose we're gonna be headin' home anytime soon."

Fred turned towards the flagpole and seeing the national flag flapping furiously with the wind, he nodded.

"Tell me about it, Dylan." Fred agreed. "Anyways, you guys know a guy named Harry Kinsella?"

Dylan and Ethan glanced at each other before the former replied, "Yeah, he's in English with me. Heard that he frequently goes bowling on Wednesdays."

"Heard that he wants to study film at UCLA after graduating." Ethan added.

Fred nodded thoughtfully before asking, "He a nice dude?"

Dylan and Ethan glanced at each other once again before they both shrugged and the former replied, "He rarely interacted with anyone in class, so don't know, man."

"Why?" Ethan added.

"Well, there's this thing in my English class that I've been struggling with, and since you also have Mr. Morgan for English, Dylan, I was thinkin' we could do a study group at his place." Fred shrugged.

"Don't we always have study groups at Scott's place?" Ethan frowned.

"Yeah, though I could sure use a good change in scenery, not to mention that Harry could use some socializing." Fred shrugged again. "Besides, I'm sure you guys got a few questions yourselves about the essay on _Othello _and that we could use the study group to get together and come up with ideas."

Ethan and Dylan both glanced at each other once again, and Fred could see the gears turning in their heads as they continued to pass the ball.

Eventually, Dylan nodded. "I could talk to him tomorrow during English class, I suppose."

"Of course, you do that." Fred said.

* * *

_October 14, 1968_

Dylan came through with his discussion with Harry, because that afternoon, Fred, Velma and a few others were at the Kinsellas place after school.

"Here it is, home sweet home, guys." Harry said as he stood at the front porch with the door keys in hand.

As Harry unlocked the door, he added, "By the way, appreciate the offer to come together for this study group at my place, Fred. I myself got a few questions about the essay and wasn't sure where to start on it."

"Ah, no need to thank me." Fred waved his hand. "That's what classmates do when we strive to succeed."

Harry stared at Fred briefly before he nodded, then he turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open.

"Right this way, guys." He said as he stepped into the house, and everyone else followed suit immediately.

Eventually, the group was progressing through the essay in the living room while enjoying refreshments of bottled cream soda and listening to some fine music.

Fred himself already had jotted down some very good ideas, and then he leaned backward and gulped down the remaining cream soda from the bottle.

As the blonde put the bottle down, he winced briefly before standing up.

"Say Harry, you mind if I use the washroom?" Fred asked as he stood up. "I might've drank too much of the cream soda here."

Velma rolled her eyes, noting that Fred had just finished his third bottle of cream soda, though she stood up as well.

"Same here." Velma said as she stood up. "I need to go relieve myself as well."

"Of course, by all means." Harry nodded as he stood up and gestured towards the hallway and added, "The washroom is right at the end of the hallway."

"Perfect." Fred and Velma both nodded before they took their leaves, and the others in the study group immediately resumed their discussions.

Once the duo were out of hearing shot of the others and were covered by the hallway walls, Fred walked right over to the washroom.

"You know what to find?" He whispered to Velma.

"Of course." Velma whispered back. "I'll be quick."

Fred nodded before they split up, with Velma glancing to her back briefly before entering Walter Kinsella's home office.

She figured that there were only two places in the house where a knife would be held, and only one was in the living room, where the others in the study group were all at.

Of course, there was nothing in the living room that would suggest that a knife was being held at, which leaves the home office as the other option.

The home office wasn't exactly tidy, and Velma could see the various diplomas and certificates hanging on the walls.

It didn't take long for her to find the knife. Turns out that it was held in the top drawer of the desk.

Glancing towards the doorway briefly, Velma quickly took out her Polaroid and snapped several photos of the knife from all angles possible, then she surreptitiously put the knife back to its place and closed the drawer before heading back out, in time for her to hear the toilet flush.

When Fred emerged from the washroom, he asked, "Find anything?"

Velma held up the recently-developed photos of the knife with a grin on her face. "It wasn't that hard at all."

"If Walter Kinsella's indeed the killer, he sure isn't making any efforts covering his tracks." Fred nodded proudly. "Good work."

Velma nodded and smiled as well. "Now to see if he's really the killer or not."

* * *

_October 15, 1968_

It was relatively easier for the gang to get their hands onto the knife owned by Roy Graham.

The businessman was a major donor to Barty Daggett's campaign, and the Blakes have often dined at the Grahams' place for dinner on Sundays, which means that Daphne was able to get her hands on the knife the day after Shaggy got the list of suspects and snapped photos of it before returning the Polaroid to Velma the next day.

Anyways, when Daphne ran into Velma during lunch period, the latter told her to ask Fred and Shaggy to meet up with them at the library after school.

Based on the tone in Velma's voice, Daphne figured the news couldn't be good, given that Velma was working on analyzing the knives they've captured photos of the whole Monday evening.

When the gang gathered at the public library after school, Velma was straight to the point.

"So I suppose you've finished analyzing the knives we've found, Velma." Fred began once they settled down in a booth.

"Yes, and I don't have any good news, unfortunately." Velma nodded. "Neither of the knives could've been used in the werewolf killings, both of them have cutting radius that are too large to leave the type of marks and cuts we see in those crime scene photos."

"So we're back to square one on that." Daphne's shoulders slumped.

"I mean, regarding this particular development of the case, yes." Velma said. "But that's not the only thing I've got going on. Since you've gotten us the files on the Killer Werewolf case, I've been trying to work the case from a different angle, one that could've been significant enough but wasn't picked up by the cops."

"And?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's nothing substantial if you're thinking about solid evidence." Velma explained. "I mean, if you think about it, most of the victims of the Killer Werewolf shared similar traits as described by their parents."

"Girls all in their mid-late teens and all with blonde hair, right." Fred nodded. "Continue."

"Yes, and for the sake of this discussion, there are two groups of victims that were snatched by the Killer Werewolf." Velma continued. "The blonde-haired girls in their mid-late teens are in Group A, while the remaining four victims, who don't have anything in common whatsoever, are Group B."

"When you put it this way, it sounds like you might've discovered some links in the victims that are part of Group B." Shaggy interjected.

Velma and Daphne both glanced at him before the former nodded.

"Like I said, it's nothing substantial in terms for hard evidence." Velma said. "Sure, those four are involved in politics in one way or another, but they were all working for different sides. The first guy, whose name escapes me at the moment, worked briefly for Duncan Reeves, Barty Daggett's number one opponent in the State Senate elections two years ago, though his role was more of a receptionist. Second guy was involved in an independent third-party candidate's race for the House, third guy was a minor secretary for Congressman Moss while fourth guy worked security at Barty Daggett's company."

"Doesn't sound like a connection if you ask me." Fred frowned.

"It's not much, not with what I've got so far anyways." Velma admitted.

"But even then, it's a start, isn't it?" Shaggy offered.

Fred, Velma and Daphne all glanced at him briefly before the former two nodded thoughtfully.

* * *

_October 16, 1968_

That morning, Velma was making her way down the hallway, en route to her locker, as usual when she spotted Fred at his locker.

Fred spotted her and immediately waved her over towards him, and Velma glanced around. Red and the others were nowhere to be seen, and she exhaled before she made her way towards the blonde.

"Where are the big guys?" Velma asked in greeting.

"Runnin' late." Fred shrugged. "It's not like them to arrive at school more than ten minutes before first period."

"Figures." Velma remarked before noting the look on Fred's face and added, "What's going on?"

Fred wordlessly pulled out the day's morning edition of the _Coolsville Gazette _and flipped it over to show Velma the headline. "I feel like an idiot."

Velma leaned forward to take a closer look at the headline, which read:

"WEREWOLF STRIKES AGAIN  
Local man in his 30s in hospital following attack by Killer Werewolf at the Fred Quimby Park"

Upon scanning the first few paragraphs of the article accompanying the headline, Velma turned towards Fred and began, "You don't really think-"

"We really should've seen this comin'." Fred cut in before Velma could finish. "With that Killer Werewolf the way it is, we should've acted faster, and-"

"Fred, the course of action we've taken was going well." Velma cut in. "Granted, we haven't find much, but that doesn't mean-"

"Exactly!" Fred snapped. "If it really went well, then someone else wouldn't have been attacked."

The minute those words flew right out of the blonde's mouth, he instantly felt guilty of venting his frustrations right on Velma.

Velma placed her hand on his left shoulder as she said, "Cool your jets, Fred. It's not like we've tipped off the culprit or anything, and besides, we were only getting started. You really expect that our course of action would've worked immediately?"

There was a long pause, during which Velma continued, "And besides, the good news is that we've got someone to speak to about the attack instead of having to rely on police reports and draw up conclusions from there."

Fred exhaled, then he looked at Velma and nodded.

"Right." He said. "In that case, we need to draw up another plan of action."

"What are you suggesting?" Velma asked.

* * *

"I really don't like this, Fred." Velma said later that afternoon after school as they approached the Coolsville General Hospital. "Not one bit. You do realize that if we get caught, I might as well find a new hospital to intern at."

"Come on, Velma." Fred insisted. "You do know that this is a great opportunity for us to get a firsthand account on what went down at the park last night, huh?"

"Yes, I know that." Velma said crossly. "But I really don't understand why do we have to go through the trouble of going into the hospital right now just to speak to the victim? Heck, I'm not even scheduled to intern here on Wednesdays."

"I know, though I'm sure you're smart enough to come up with something when you see your colleagues, right?" Fred turned towards her.

Velma paused her lips, ready to argue back, though by that point, they were already in the main lobby.

The receptionist at the front desk perked up as the duo approached, and she widened her eyes at the sight of Velma.

"Velma?" She asked, and Velma smiled. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"Hello to you too, Marcie." Velma said. "I wasn't, either. However, when I finished up yesterday afternoon, I seem to have misplaced my canteen before I clocked out. Would you have happened to have saw it here at the desk?"

Marcie frowned and shook her head. "I don't think so, are you sure you last saw your canteen here?"

"If not here, then perhaps at the records room." Velma offered.

"Maybe, you can go check there, Velma." Marcie waved her hand dismissively.

Velma glanced at Fred briefly before they made their way down the hallway.

Soon, at the records room, Fred stood by the door while Velma searched through the room.

"Are you sure you last saw your canteen at the records room, Velms?" Fred called as he glanced at his watch, maintaining the cover.

"Of course, Fred." Velma nodded as she searched through the records. _Belmont...Belsen...Benson! Found it!_

At the sight of the file she was searching for, Velma pulled it out and flipped it open.

The latest victim's name was Steve Benson, who according to the police report was out on a jog at the Fred Quimby Park last night when he got attacked.

A witness, who was walking his dog nearby, happened along when Benson was in the midst of a struggle and the figure attacking him immediately scrammed.

Velma swiftly pulled out her Polaroid and snapped several photos of the contents in the file, then she quickly closed the file and placed it back in the drawer.

Fred was about to peek into the records room when Velma emerged with her Polaroid in hand.

"Got the file." She whispered to Fred before pulling out a developed photo, showed it to him and added, "The vic's at Room 31969, which is just down the hallway from here."

"Good." Fred nodded. "Let's go."

When the duo walked past the reception desk, Marcie paused from her typing and perked up.

"Did you find your canteen?" She asked.

Velma shook her head. "I must've been mistaken about having had left it at the records room, perhaps it might be somewhere in Building 3. You know what busy afternoons could do to you."

Marcie nodded. "I know that feeling."

Velma nodded back before she led Fred down the hallway without another word, and Marcie resumed her typing.

As they made their way down the hallway, Velma asked, "So what are you planning on asking the vic?"

"Uh...what?" Fred asked absentmindedly, having had been momentarily distracted by the sight of a deeply attractive nurse walking past them.

"You know, what questions are you gonna ask the vic?" Velma asked.

"Well, maybe asking him to provide an account on what happened last night, something that wouldn't have made it to a police report." Fred shrugged.

As Velma nodded, the blonde continued, "Though we definitely wanna play this like a casual conversation, 'cause the last thing we need is..."

"Yeah, yeah." Velma said. "I get it."

* * *

From what they've gathered prior to the hospital visit, when the victim was found at the park by the witness walking his dog, he was in a pool of his own blood and got rushed to the emergency room.

Fortunately, the witness made the emergency call in time, as doctors were able to effortlessly save Benson's life.

Benson studied the duo as they enterred his room following a gentle knock on the door to his room, and he sat up straight on his hospital bed.

"Can I help you kids?" He asked in greeting.

"Hello, Mr. Benson, I'm Fred Jones, and I would-" Fred was about to begin when the victim cut in.

"Fred Jones, as in Assistant District Attorney Skip Jones?" Benson asked in recognition.

"Yes, he's my father." Fred nodded.

"Ah, good, then tell your old man that he does very good work and keep raising h*ll when he reaches the DA's office." Benson smiled.

"I'll be happy to do so." Fred smiled back. "But anyways, I was wondering if you'd like to talk to us about the attack last night."

Benson's smile disappeared. "You mean the wolf attack."

"That's right, Mr. Benson." Velma stepped in. "By the way, I'm Velma Dinkley. I'm Fred's...friend."

Benson grunted briefly, and the duo glanced at each other as he pondered what to say.

"A lot of what I've got to say has already been covered in my interview with the cops." Benson finally said.

"That's okay." Fred replied. "We just wanna get a first hand account on what had happened, if that's okay with you."

Benson visibly relaxed, and he nodded.

"Of course." He said. "I was out jogging at the trails at the park as I've always done, now that this has happened, I suppose I'd have to stick to jogging around the block at my home once I get out..."

"What happened?" Velma gently pressed before Benson could trail off.

"Right, right." Benson scratched his head briefly. "Anyways, there was some rustling at some bushes off the trail, no big deal, so I just jogged past 'em. But then, when I was at where the rustling was at, I spotted something at the corner of my eye."

"'Something'?" Fred frowned.

"This is where it gets all weird." Benson said. "The cops said that what I've got came from a wolf, and maybe they're right, since with something like this happening, I could be imaging things when trying to recall the exact details of what went down last night..."

"But?" Velma asked, judging from the hesitant tone in Benson's voice when he described what the cops had told him.

"I could've sworn that I saw a man stepping into the bushes, right at the spot of the rustling, shortly before I jogged past it." Benson insisted.

"And you're very sure about it." Fred pressed.

"Kid, I used to work as a cop and over the years, my memory's never failed me." Benson said as he looked at Fred in the eye before he scoffed and shook his head. "But the stick sleeves these days...let's just say that they could use better leadership."

Fred and Velma glanced at each other briefly.

"Well, with all due respect, maybe your age is catching up on you, Mr. Benson." Velma offered.

"Maybe." Benson said. "Either that, or they deliberately cooking this up to destroy my credibility."

"What makes you say that?" Fred arched his eyebrows.

"Because I've seen things." Benson said as he looked at Fred in the eye. "And take it from me, kids. There's something screwy about this whole werewolf thing, especially with the way the investigators are handlin' the case."

"Hmmm..." Fred and Velma both murmured as they glanced at each other, then the former said, "Well, Mr. Benson, we deeply appreciate your time. Do take care of yourself."

"And I'll see you later." Velma added. "I intern here."

* * *

Once the duo made it out of the hospital, during which Velma explained to Marcie that she might've forgotten that she had left her canteen at school before her shift while they dropped by the reception desk, Fred turned towards Velma.

"So what do you think?" Fred asked.

Velma shrugged. "At this point, it's too early for me to say, though the victim sure seemed determined to get his story out, one that would sure raise questions on the way the police is handling this Killer Werewolf case."

"No doubt about it." Fred agreed. "In fact, I'd like to go further on what Benson meant on 'something screwy'."

"Safe to say it might have something to do with what the feds are sniffing for." Velma said. "Besides, I've read up on him before our trip here. Benson worked security for Mayor Jones shortly after he quit the force, and get this, he was the first officer at the scene of a sixteen-year old cold case."

"What was the cold case?" Fred arched his eyebrows.

Velma turned around to face him. "The murders of Vincent and Rebecca Crown."

* * *

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	10. More allegations

Chapter 10: More allegations

_October 17, 1968_

Shaggy certainly made no effort to hide the sour look on his face as he and Daphne followed Fred and Velma to the Coolsville General Hospital that afternoon after school.

"I still don't get this at all." Shaggy remarked as they walked down the street. "Like, you guys could've had your interview with the victim and then brief us on what he has to say on the case."

"Well, Shag, I'm sure you both would be interested in hearing what the vic has to say for the werewolf case." Fred said. "Especially since this guy was an ex-cop."

"So I've heard." Shaggy grumbled. "Even so, what makes you think I should be dragged out from the radio station in order to hear the guy out in person?"

"Trust me, Shag." Fred placed his hand on Shaggy's shoulder. "You will definitely wanna hear what the vic has to say, and it's something you wanna be there for in person when he tells us more about it."

"Specifically politics, one that would paint a picture on why exactly your father wouldn't like the idea of us snooping around." Velma added.

Shaggy immediately turned towards Velma at the remark, and she shrugged.

Seeing the reluctant frown on Shaggy's face, Daphne placed her hand on his shoulder as she paused and turned towards him.

"Just give it a shot, Shag." Daphne said. "It'll be worth your time."

There's something in Daphne's eyes that Shaggy never saw before when she made the remark, and he paused his lips as he pondered on what she has to offer.

Finally, he nodded. "Like, then let's get this over with. And this time, it better not go wrong like last time at the police station."

Shaggy was glancing at Daphne as he made the last remark, and the other three could hear the tone of annoyance in his voice.

"Either way, let's keep moving, gang." Fred urged as he nodded forward. "We don't have all afternoon to do this."

Everyone else nodded as they wordlessly followed Fred's lead, during which Shaggy glanced at Daphne.

He noted that she has her notebook, the type assigned to reporters, in hand, and he was certain that she was going to be ready to write down what the victim has to say when they meet with him.

Even so, Shaggy can see that there's something running through Daphne's mind as they approached the hospital.

He couldn't tell what Daphne was thinking, but whatever it is, it probably wasn't going to be something he would want to know.

It was then that the red head turned towards him and asked, "What?"

Immediately, Shaggy turned away as he said, "Uh...nothing."

Daphne frowned. "Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"Oh?" Shaggy arched his eyebrows. "What gives?"

Before Daphne could respond, Fred immediately walked in between them.

"Alright, guys, you can cut it." The blonde urged. "Save whatever you both have for later."

Receiving daggers from Fred's glare, both Shaggy and Daphne shut their mouths as they made their way through the main entrance.

In spite of the silence, both Fred and Velma can feel the deep serious tension lingering between the duo.

* * *

Benson was lying on his bed resting when the gang arrived at Room 31969, and Fred had to clear his throat gently.

The former police officer stirred briefly before opening his eyes, and then he turned towards the gang as Shaggy and the girls shared glances with each other.

"You again, Mr. Jones?" Benson asked when he recognized Fred.

"Uh-huh." Fred nodded. "I've brought two more friends with me and Velma. They're interested in hearing what you have to say in follow up to our discussion yesterday afternoon about the wolf attack as much as me and Velma are."

Benson had his eyes on Daphne as Fred made the remark, then he nodded.

"Fair enough." The former police officer said before looking at Daphne and added, "You're Daphne Blake, George Blake's youngest daughter, aren't you?"

Shaggy, Fred and Velma all turned towards the redhead as she nodded. "That's me, Mr. Benson. I currently intern at the _Coolsville Gazette_, and I was hoping you'd be interested in providing an in-depth account on the wolf attack at the park."

"An interview?" Benson frowned.

"Not exactly." Fred quickly said. "We just want to follow up on what exactly you meant during our brief discussion yesterday."

"As in what you meant when you say that there's something screwy about this werewolf business, to be exact." Velma interjected.

"Right, right." Benson nodded thoughtfully. "It's a bit of a long story, though y'all can say that this screwy business all started with this land deal between Vincent Crown and Barty Daggett two years before Crown's death."

Fred and the girls glanced at each other, then Velma said, "Go on."

"Alright." Benson took a deep breath. "This land deal was set up so Daggett and Blake Incorporated could get the right of way they needed in constructing a pipeline carrying natural gas, as back then, the land was owned by Crown Property Holdings."

"I don't suppose the land in question was just some random piece of land, Mr. Benson." Fred remarked.

"No, it ain't." Benson shook his head. "You see, that piece of land wasn't worth much, as there was pretty much nothin' you can grow on, and it has been, what, decades since the land was last used for ranches before the Great Depression of '29."

"The land was vacant when the stock market crashed in '29?" Velma clarified.

"Uh-huh." Benson nodded. "Movin' on. As things turned out, this land was anythin' but worthless, because beneath the surface was one of the largest natural gas reserves in the state, and when both parties found out, they had to renegotiate the purchase price of the land, and Vincent Crown offered to sell the land at the original price in exchange for 50 percent of the revenue generated from the productions of a chemical plant that makes heavy use of the mined gas."

"But something happened that led to the land deal going south." Fred folded his arms.

"Exactly." Benson nodded again. "The land was sold to Barty Daggett below market value, and even though the gas was extracted in massive amounts, the revenue Crown received from the chemical plant operations was far lower than what it was supposed to be. Couple that with the fact that the chemical plant had higher operating costs but lower productivity compared to similar capacity chemical plants, you get a recipe for somethin' fishy goin' on behind the scenes."

"For someone who never worked in the industry, you seem to know a lot about said operations, Mr. Benson." Daphne remarked.

"Because not too long after the land deal was closed and the mined gas was routed to supply Barty Daggett's chemical plant, a major theft occurred at the plant." Benson said. "I was one of the arrestin' officers that took part in the bust, and boy, did s**t hit the fan after that."

"How bad are we talking about?" Fred asked.

"We're talkin' about the theft being a inside job involving a network of employees at the plant, a network that goes straight up to management." Benson frowned. "I later gathered that Vincent Crown was becoming suspicious that Barty Daggett may be up to shady s**t, particularly with him gettin' swindled out of the investment as a result of Daggett embezzling funds."

"And Mr. Crown had hired someone to look into the plant's finances?" Shaggy asked.

"That, he did." Benson nodded. "In fact, shortly before his murder, the forensic accountant Mr. Crown hired came to him with numbers that paints a very disturbing picture on the nature of the Blake and Daggett Incorporated."

"One that would suggest that Barty Daggett was colluding with the mob, or more precisely, the mafia." Fred said.

"Yes." Benson nodded again. "Now, I know what y'all are thinking, and that is how is it that y'all can know for sure that my word can be trusted when, no doubt y'all know, about the rumours about me."

The former police officer then exhaled before continuing, "And it's true, I may have taken some of the dough to look the other way, pretty much the way things are in this town. However, y'all should know that there was one man who I served with in the Pacific Theater whose wife paid the price when he tried looking in deep into the Crown murders."

Benson then stared right at Shaggy as he said, "I'm talking about your old man, sonny."

Shaggy arched his eyebrows as Fred and the girls turned towards him.

"My father...?" Shaggy sputtered. "Like, he was still in New York when the Crown murders took place. How is it that he...?"

"Yes, I know." Benson cut in. "However, the Crown murders has relation to what happened seven years ago when a certain doctor had stumbled upon a conspiracy involving the prescription of untested, unnecessary, not to mention addictive, pharmaceuticals produced by Blake and Daggett Incorporated, prescriptions that were filled out fraudulently and has become a profitable expenditure for the mob as well."

"The same profitable expenditure that was tied into the money-laundering scheme in relation to the theft at the Blake and Daggett chemical plant." Velma interjected.

"Exactly." Benson nodded. "The doctor's findings and plan to blow the whistle led to the reopening of the Crown Murder files, though the case was closed as soon as it was reopened following the doctor's death in a car accident."

The revelation hit Shaggy like a ton of bricks, and he inhaled sharply, though he didn't let his emotions show on his face.

Even so, Daphne turned towards him and could see that he was trying hard to digest what Benson had just said.

"And where does the Killer Werewolf tie into all of this?" Fred prompted as he tried to get the conversation back on track. "Is there even a legend?"

"Not exactly." Benson shook his head. "However, even before all of this began, there was a werewolf case from years ago here in Coolsville in which several victims were found ripped to shreds in their own homes with wolf claws in their rooms."

"How long ago are we talking about?" Fred asked.

"We're talking almost five years after the Crown murders." Benson explained. "By that point, I was made detective and was the lead investigator lookin' into the killings, and s**t, right at the moment I had a look at the first victim, I knew somethin' wasn't adding up to the case."

"Like how?" Shaggy asked.

"The victims weren't connected in any way, nor were there any relations." Benson said. "Even more bizarre was the fact that they were all found at their homes with no signs of forced entry, as if they all knew the killer."

"But...?" Velma prompted.

"In spite of all that, we were able to find a break in the case and we've cornered the wolf that we believe was responsible in a cabin not far from the Fred Quimby Party and shot 'im like a dog." Benson continued. "Trouble is, when we went to retrieve the carcass in the cabin, there was no wolf. Instead, it was simply the body of a man, as if he might've transformed into a wolf."

"Did you use silver bullets on him to be safe?" Fred asked.

Benson laughed. "H*ll, the man's watch was found at the latest crime scene, which was good enough for me. And besides, with folks becoming terrorized of the big bad wolf, we were pressured to close the case fast, not to mention we were not equipped with silver bullets in the armoury."

"Either way, the string of killings stopped after that showdown." Daphne interjected.

"It did." Benson nodded. "For a while, anyways. Then, that poor doll's body was found at the park few weeks ago right near where we had that showdown with the culprit responsible for the killings in '57."

"And you're confident that you've got your man back then." Fred stated.

"Of course I am." Benson asserted. "Like I said, the police department are cookin' this whole werewolf business up because they don't like the fact that I've seen things and that I could snitch to the feds if the time comes."

"Basically, you're thinking that by having this werewolf appearing, whoever's behind this is using it, not just to kill those that try to expose the truth, but also as a safeguard that will result in many questioning your credibility should the time comes for you to testify in front of a grand jury." Fred said.

"Pretty much." Benson nodded.

"And when the dust settles and assuming all of this fed stuff blows through without any casualties, who stands to benefit the most from the werewolf reappearance?" Daphne asked.

Without hesitation, Benson quickly replied, "Barty Daggett."

The redhead exhaled, and Velma and the boys turned towards each other, during which the former cop continued, "Take it from me, Miss Blake."

When Daphne turned towards him, Benson added, "Barty Daggett is involved too deep in some shady s**t, and should time comes for the feds to swoop in, your old man might get caught in the crossfire."

It was then that Shaggy asked, "Are you suggesting that Barty Daggett may have something to do with the car accident that killed my mother in '61?"

"That's a very serious accusation against the state senator if you ask me, Shag." Fred quickly said.

"Perhaps, but the guy just basically accused the state senator of orchestrating this whole werewolf business in order to have a leverage and discredit him should he be called to testify in a federal grand jury should it ever come to happen." Shaggy pointed out.

* * *

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

I was pretty sure that I've made a solid impression on the others when I pointed out my hunch on where this whole thing was going, and both Fred and Velma seemed pretty convinced by what I've offered.

I was also pretty sure that I've struck a nerve in Daphne, because when we head our separate ways for the evening, the redhead pulled me aside.

"Just what the h*ll were you thinking, Shaggy?" Daphne asked me crossly the minute she pulled me to the garden by the side of the main entrance.

"What do you mean, what I was thinking?" I asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, I know what was all of that about." Daphne said as she glared at me. "You'd honestly think that State Senator Daggett would really be involved in something like this?"

"Hey, most people in town don't like him, maybe whatever my hunch is proves just that." I shrugged.

"You seriously think this is a game, isn't it?" Daphne snarled as she pointed her finger accusingly at me. "Because if you're suggesting that the state senator is involved in this dirty work, then you're also making accusations to my father, who worked his butt off for a living!"

"You sound like you don't want your father's good name to be tarnished by any sort of accusations against State Senator Daggett." I folded my arms. "Unless, of course, you and your father are..."

"Maybe you should take your own advice, Shaggy." Daphne cut in. "Things between my father and I are smooth, and unless you've got solid evidence to suggest that the state senator is indeed involved in this mess, then I strongly suggest that you back off."

With that last remark, the redhead turned around and stormed right off, leaving me to adjust my shirt.

As Daphne disappeared into the crowd of people on the sidewalk, I was left wondering who the devil does she think she is?

I simply scoffed and shook my head lightly before I made my way onto the busy street.

* * *

_October 18, 1968_

Something about Daphne's remark to me goaded me forward. If she didn't like the direction I was pushing the case towards with my theory, fine.

She must've been uncomfortable with what could be the truth, again, that's her choice to make on whether to accept it or not, the consequences that would eventually follow depends on the choices she makes.

But like it or not, I've been dragged into this team to solve this case, and that sure as h*ll means that I have every right to contribute to the team with my thoughts, even if such thoughts isn't exactly something that others would see eye-to-eye with me on.

Either way, this afternoon, I've met with Velma after she spent some time at county records doing her thing, and she was more inclined to believe my theory on Barty Daggett's involvement in this mess after acquiring what she had gathered.

Apparently, Barty Daggett's company has been under the feds' radar for quite some time, not to mention that those four victims of the Killer Werewolf, the ones who don't fit into the physical profile of the other victims, actually have closer connections to the state senator than what meets the eye.

The first guy that briefly worked for Duncan Reeves in the State Senate elections two years back, whose name was Jon Kenny, well apparently he actually used to work for Barty Daggett's company as an accountant, a tenure that overlapped with him volunteering at Duncan Reeves' State Senate campaign.

From what Velma had gathered, prior to his disappearance, Kenny was starting to have questions about what he noted were inconsistent accounting figures in the company's books, though he frequently got rebuffed by company management when he went forward with the questions.

Considering the fact that Kenny has been snatched away by the Killer Werewolf, we could only assume that he must've stumbled upon something real shady that would've resulted in him getting silenced by whoever is behind this whole mess, presumably the state senator.

The second vic is a guy that goes by the name of Lawrence Nickson, who as Velma mentioned earlier is involved in the independent third party candidate's campaign for the House.

Nickson was a chemical engineer who briefly worked at the chemical division of Blake and Daggett Incorporated, and he had made headlines alleging unsafe labour practices at the chemical plant.

In fact, Nickson had also alleged that the company was producing product that is severely restricted by the government, product that the likes of the Viet Cong and Soviets would only be too happy to get their hands onto.

From what Velma gathered, in spite of the police bust-up Benson took part in that also exposed a network of employees at the chemical plant complicit in the ring, Blake and Daggett Incorporated somehow managed to emerge from the scandal unscathed and was allowed to continue operations.

Something tells me that Daggett definitely had the most to gain from the unsolved murder of the Crowns, since a potential Mayor Crown would've requested an official inquest into the company's operations in a heartbeat, an inquest that would've for sure resulted in Daggett getting sent to prison, or at the very least, result in the bankruptcy and forced closure of his company.

Moving on, the third vic was a guy by the name of Charles Gallant who was Congressman Moss' secretary. Turns out, though, that he was more than a secretary.

As a matter a fact, Gallant was a legal adviser to Moss briefly and was, in fact, the lawyer Nickson contacted about his allegations of unsafe labour practices at the chemical plant.

Velma also gathered that Gallant served together with Assistant DA Jones during their days in the Navy JAG Corps, and Fred's father felt that he owed it to his friend to look into the allegations Gallant would've surfaced if it weren't for his untimely disappearance courtesy of the werewolf.

The more we went through the details and pieces of information, the more we were starting to be convinced that State Senator Barty Daggett is involved in this werewolf mess, especially since he has the motive and stands to benefit the most from the deaths.

Even so, neither of us knew the state senator as a man, and since Daphne was still pissed at me for my outburst yesterday, we had to rule out asking her about him in order to get a better lay of the land.

Jeez. And all it took was for me to ask this fateful question to Velma.

"Like, what are you suggesting we should do as our next course of action?" I asked.

Velma turned towards me and seeing the look on her face, I knew I just had to open my big mouth. Again.

When the h*ll am I going to learn?

* * *

_October 19, 1968_

"Name?" The woman behind the desk demanded. Sounds like either someone's been having a rough day or had rotten cheese to eat for lunch.

"Rogers." I replied. Whatever's the source of this woman's lousy mood isn't much of my concern, though jeez, how the h*ll did I get myself talked into doing this?

"First name or last name?" The woman asked. _Really? Is she for real?_

"Unless you're telling me that I misspoke my own name Roger as Rogers, I'm pretty sure that would be my last name." I said.

The woman glared at me with a scowl on her face as she looked through the list, then she asked, "Norville?"

"That would be me." I replied.

The woman looked at me once more before she checked my name on the list, then she said, "Very well, then. Follow me."

Without missing a beat, the woman stormed off down the hallway faster than what was necessary, and I'd thought I was gonna have trouble keeping up.

A short while later, she lead me to a desk with a rather large stack of envelopes, and my stomach turned.

"Alright, Mr. Rogers." The woman turned towards me. "What you're gonna be doing is be addressing the envelopes."

She then gestured to the large stack on the left side of the desk as she continued, "All of these envelopes are to be addressed, and the information you would need is in these sheets."

The woman patted on the stack of papers laying on the middle of the desk, and I exhaled. _That looks like a long list of electors._

"Now, your job is to write each of these addresses onto the envelopes, upon which..." She gestured to the tray on the right side of the desk, "...you would then place the envelope in this tray, and be sure to cross out or put a check on the address on the sheets here before moving onto the next envelope."

_Fair enough._ I thought as she allowed me to take a seat behind the desk before she said, "Any questions?"

I shook my head. My only concern was getting a firsthand look at our number one suspect, and the shorter it takes for me to go through all of this, the better.

"Good." The woman proceeded to take her leave. "I'll leave you to it."

Once the woman was out of the room, I glanced to my back before looking at the address sheets, then at the stack of envelopes.

Sheez. You've got to be kidding me.

* * *

_October 22, 1968_

Day three at this lousy place addressing envelopes, and already I was starting to feel like I was going lose it.

Who knew writing random addresses on stacks of envelopes for three hours a day could be boring? Not to mention the toll this has taken on my right hand from all this writing day in and day out.

"Mr. Daggett is going to drop by here today, so be sure to be on your best behaviour, Norville." The woman from before, who I've since learned was State Senator Daggett's chief of staff, instructed me when I walked in this afternoon.

Sounds like she considers me as a walking exhibit for unruly behaviour that doesn't take professionalism seriously.

Even as those thoughts entered my mind, I only responded, "Right. I take it he's had a busy schedule at the State Capitol at Sacramento and was only able to clear his schedule to come here today, huh?"

"Of course." The woman sneered at me. "After all, we are a very important, not to mention crucial, aspect of his campaign for a seat at Capitol Hill, and he recognizes this, so he does have to find the time to drop by here and show his appreciation."

I only nodded before making my way to my work station. Still have dozens of addresses to write on envelopes.

I swear another full day went by before the man himself finally showed up, though I arched my eyebrows when I saw that he was accompanied by Mr. George Blake.

"It's been a great honour to have you all on here in my campaign." Daggett smiled as we all paused from what we were doing and listened. "It's because of your efforts and hard work that makes my election to better represent the constituents of the 3rd Congressional District at Capitol Hill possible."

The applause that followed was more scattered, and as I turned around, I thought that the majority of the applause came from his chief of staff. Figures.

"Now, I would need to speak with my associate Mr. Blake in private." Daggett said as he continues to sport that politicians smile before he turned towards his chief of staff and continued, "Alice, care to show us where we can do just that?"

"Gladly." Alice replied as she lead the two men to the small meeting room near the water fountain at the back.

That's it? That's all I'm going to get from that state senator? After everything I've went through for three lousy days, cramped hand or not, this wasn't going to be good enough. I have to find out what Mr. Daggett was going to say, and darned if I was going to let these three lousy days go to waste.

Thinking back about this, it wasn't really that difficult to eavesdrop on their conversation. All I had to do was get a water break and listen into the conversation taking place inside the meeting room.

For someone who's quite the successful businessman, Barty Daggett sure isn't that wise when it comes to investing in more secure meeting locations, because that door wasn't much of a muffler, especially when I could hear every single word that comes out of that meeting room.

"It's already bad enough that those f**king socialists are spreading vicious rumours about me and are organizing these protests against me in my hometown." I can hear Daggett speaking. "Do you really think I should let the feds derail the hard work and progress I am striving to make once I get to Capitol Hill?"

"Maybe you should've thought about that when you've decided to invest in that venture that got you in this fine mess in the first place, Barty." Mr. Blake replied.

"Me?!" Daggett was almost shouting. "Don't forget who was the one that gave you the necessary funds that enabled you to keep you and that large family of yours afloat, George."

"Well, if I have known any better, I would've been better off living in the poorhouse with my family than partnering with a pissant like you, Barty." Mr. Blake retorted. "You do realize that should all of this comes to light, your political career would be finished and you'll be spending the rest of your life behind bars."

"And what about you, Blake?" Daggett stormed. "You really think you're gonna be walking out of this scot-free?"

A pause went by before Daggett continued, "Do you? Because let's not forget that you're the one who signed off on the order to-"

"Don't even think of bringing up that Rogers car, Daggett." Mr. Blake cut in. "I've already allowed you to get eighty percent of the profits in our venture, is there anything more you need?"

I've arched my eyebrows. Daphne's father is also involved in this mess? _D*mn. _Just proved Daphne's point that any accusations directed towards the state senator would result in her father getting caught in the crossfire.

"Only that you keep that mouth of yours shut." Daggett replied. "Because like it or not, you're also involved in this, and if you're going to squeal to the feds, then you should know that I'm not going down without a fight."

"Is this a threat?" Mr. Blake challenged.

"You're calling my bluff?" Daggett countered.

Another minute went by before Mr. Blake sighed, and Daggett said, "I've figured as much."

Seems like Mr. Blake had shook his head, based on what Daggett said. Whatever it is they were discussing about, though, I didn't have the chance to find out, because it was that moment that Alice decided to call me out on my apparent "laziness".

"Norville!" Alice barked. "I'm sure those envelopes aren't gonna address themselves, so quit hoarding all of the water and get back to work!"

Well, whatever it is I've gathered, I hope it's good enough for Fred and Velma, which in turn would put an end to them assigning me the more dangerous tasks in this.

It's still too far-fetched for us to conclude if Bartemius Daggett or even George Blake is involved in these murders, but one thing is for certain.

George Blake is involved in some pretty shady going-ons, and I not sure if I wanna find out what that is.

* * *

**Please read and review!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Another development and an unpleasant encounter

_October 23, 1968_

That afternoon after school, I was going through my usual routine of packing up and heading for the radio station when Fred tapped my shoulder.

"What?" I groaned as I turned around to face the blonde. Apparently, it seems like he doesn't understand what "No, I'm not going back to that nuthouse" really means.

"Just so you know, we're going to meet up at the library soon to go through what we've all gathered in the past few days." Fred said to me.

"Oh." I said. "Have you told Daphne what I've gathered yesterday at State Senator Daggett's campaign?"

"No." Fred shook his head. "Besides, I don't think she's gonna like it if it were to get around that you 'volunteered' at the state senator's campaign for the sake of gathering information on her family friend."

"Especially when it sounded like her father is actually being blackmailed by the state senator." I added as I took out my school bag and slammed my locker door shut.

"Exactly." Fred nodded. "You'll also be pleased to know that I managed to get the files on the original werewolf killings, courtesy of my father."

_Perhaps it's because given that the original werewolf case involved a police shooting that has to be cleared by the DA's office, there's gotta be a file on the case. _I nodded thoughtfully. "In that case, let's see what this tells us more about the werewolf."

"Of course." Fred gestured towards the main door before stopping me and added, "Oh, and Shag?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

Unexpectedly, the blonde placed his hands on my shoulders before saying, "Just wanna add that I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your...mother."

For a while, I didn't say a word as I looked at Fred, during which he continued, "From what Benson said last week, it certainly looks like your mother was killed for trying to do the right thing."

I exhaled, and then I said, "Like, if there's anything good that came out of that car accident, it's the fact that Mom didn't suffer one bit."

It's true. As Dad explained to me and Mags, Mom was instantly killed on impact in the accident, and when you consider what I've went through in the course of my difficult recovery, I sometimes wished that I was the one that was killed on impact instead of Mom, though I don't suppose it's gonna change anything with regards to Dad and Maggie's grief.

Fred only nodded solemnly, then he patted my shoulder once more before he lead the way.

* * *

When Fred and I arrived at the public library, we weren't surprised one bit when we only saw Daphne at the usual group table.

"Velma will be running late." The redhead explained to us as we took our seats. "She told me that she had to take care of something at the hospital and said that we can start without her."

"Fair enough." Fred nodded as he pulled a file out from his school bag. Sounds like he might've worked with Velma in acquiring the file from the DA's office.

"So what does the case file say?" Daphne asked as Fred flipped open the file.

"Well, as it turns out, Benson was right about the '57 Werewolf Case." Fred replied. "Now, to sum things up about the case itself, over the course of nine years leading up to '57, thirteen people were murdered in Coolsville, each found in their own homes ripped to shreds and with wolf claws in their living rooms. None of the crime scenes have any signs of forced entry, so all of the victims let the killer in."

Flipping a page in the file report, Fred continued, "Eventually, police singled out a suspect and cornered the wolf in the cabin at the Fred Quimby Park, where they shot it when it attempted to swing at them. The man whose body was recovered from the cabin was one Barry Wilson, who had no priors and the murders stopped."

"But...?" I asked, figuring that there's more to the story than what was being let on.

"Now, I've taken the liberty of narrowing down the murders that occurred after Benson got his detective's badge and got assigned to the task force handling the case, which would be after '56." Fred continued.

"And you found something." Daphne interjected.

"I did, and that out of the 13 murders that took place over the span of nine years, six of them took place in a span of the two years when Benson was on the task force." Fred said. "What prompted us to look closer were three of the victims."

"What about them?" I asked.

"It took some digging on Velma's part, but each of those three victims have, at some point, been wronged by Benson and have reported his conduct to Internal Affairs, and get this, each of these complaints were filed two days before the victims disappeared and were later found murdered by the werewolf." Fred continued.

"Sounds like a big coincidence if you ask me." Daphne remarked.

"Too big." Fred nodded. "Then, upon digging deeper, we all figured out that Benson was, one way or another, within a ten-minute walking distance from where all the murders have taken place at, and yesterday afternoon, I managed to get Velma to take a picture of a tattoo on Benson's arm while he was sleeping."

"What's the tattoo?" Daphne asked.

Fred pulled out a Polaroid photo of the tattoo and placed it on the table so Daphne and I could get a closer look at it, during which he pulled out a book on legends and spells before he continued.

"Now this tattoo..." Fred pointed right at the photo on Benson's arm, which appeared to be a skull in the shape of a wolf with the jaw appearing much more human, before he placed the book on the table and flipped through the pages before stopping at where he was searching for, "...it has a bit of a history. According to Native American folklore, the Kucissu Humniu, which closely translates as the 'Wolf jaw on the arm' in the Chochenyo language, is a half-man, half-wolf creature who terrorizes the folks in its roaming grounds."

"Jeepers." Daphne remarked. "What about the tattoo?"

"Apparently, this tattoo, comprising of a wolf skull with a human jaw, was a sign of a warrior brave enough to defend the grounds from the Humniu." Fred continued. "In fact, at one point prior to the Colombian age, warriors sporting the tattoo were assigned to patrol the village grounds frequently on years of poor harvest, which is crucial for the tributes they need to appease the creature and keep it away from the villages."

"Wow." I remarked. "Like, if those bearing the tattoos were supposed to be warriors protecting the city from the werewolf, those warriors are sure doing a lousy job!"

"And then, there's the kicker." Fred nodded. "In addition to the fact that Benson resigned from the force not long after the shootout in '57, due to Benson's interference, authorities never discovered that Wilson has a prior run-in with Benson prior to the werewolf murders."

"What sort of run-ins are we talking about?" Daphne exhaled.

Fred glanced down at his notes before he leaned forward and lowered his voice as he continued, "Long story short, in part thanks to Velma's efforts and my Dad pulling some strings, we were able to gather evidence that would suggest that Wilson was paying blackmail to Benson in return to Benson not bustin' his a** after he was caught with some compromising material."

"As in Benson was ordering Wilson to commit the murders and then he took care of Wilson himself when he was starting to crack under the strain." I offered.

"Hence the shootout at the cabin near Fred Quimby Park." Daphne pointed out.

Fred nodded as he almost slammed his hand on the table. "There you go."

"So not only was our ex-cop a liar, he's also a crook." I piped up.

"And a killer." Daphne added.

There was some silence between the three of us, and then I said, "So Benson blackmails Wilson into doing his dirty work in eliminating complaints who could expose his racketeering, then he kills Wilson himself when Wilson decided that he wasn't doing it anymore or has found out about Benson's racketeering, at which point Benson decided that he wasn't taking any chances in letting said allegations coming to light."

"Exactly." Fred nodded. "And then, he quits the force to work security, first for Barty Daggett, then for Mayor Francis Jones."

"Which then begs the question." Daphne frowned. "What prompted Benson to spill the beans out like he did last week when we met with him?"

Before Fred could answer, the librarian walked towards out booth and gently tapped on the cubicle wall.

"Mr. Fred Jones?" The librarian asked as we all turned towards her.

"That's me." Fred nodded. "What's up?"

The librarian pointed towards the front desk as she said, "There's a phone call for you at the front desk. It's from your friend Velma."

We all arched our eyebrows. I never knew you could call the library and ask for someone specifically.

"Oh?" Fred asked. "What does she want?"

"I don't know, but she told me that it's something urgent and for your ears only." The librarian replied. "You'd better go hear for yourself."

Fred turned towards me and Daphne, then he got up from his seat and rushed over to the front desk while we looked on.

"Hey Velma, what's up?" Fred picked up the phone and asked.

A pause went by before the blonde nodded and said, "Yeah, we're all still here in the library, Velma. What's going on?"

During that second pause, Fred turned towards me and Daph and beckoned us to go over to the front desk.

"Wait, wait-" Fred sounded like he was cutting Velma off mid-sentence. "How come the area is filled with cops?"

That was unexpected. I hope whatever it is isn't exactly serious, though when I saw the look on Daphne's face, I thought that she looked tense.

"Oh, State Senator Daggett is at the hospital for a campaign stop." Fred repeated before nodding. "I suppose that explain things."

However, the neutral look on Fred's face was short-lived, for a moment later, his eyes narrowed.

"Hold on, what do you mean?" He asked.

As he listened to Velma's explanation, Fred glanced towards Daphne and I, the frown deepening before he nodded. Whatever it is that's going on at the hospital, it can't be good.

"Alright, Velma." Fred nodded. "We are on our way."

After he hung up the phone, the air became unusually still as he stared at the earpiece.

It was Daphne who broke the silence as she asked, "What's going on, Freddie?"

Fred exhaled before he turned towards us. "Benson's dead, guys."

* * *

By the time we all arrived at the General Hospital, we could all see that the place was quite the circus.

As we were joined by Velma, who led us towards Room 31969, we could see the area swarming with cops, especially as we approached Benson's room.

The moment we arrived at the room, which was taped off by the crime scene tape, we all saw the two investigators working inside, though none of us were prepared to see what was on the hospital bed.

"Oh, dear G**." Daphne paled at the sight of Benson's body, and quite honestly, I couldn't blame her.

Even after being haunted by the sight of Mom's lifeless body in the car all those years ago, I wasn't prepared for what we were seeing on the hospital bed.

Benson's body was completely scratched up with some limbs torn off, definitely looked like he was trying to put up a fight against his assailant.

The bed sheet of his hospital bed was completely dyed red from his blood, and I swear that you could see the tip of his bones from where the limbs were torn off.

And then, resting on the nightstand right beside the bed were a couple of wolf claws.

"Holy s**t." Fred covered his mouth. "Whoever did this to Benson, the Werewolf, that is, definitely meant serious business."

"I'll say." Velma agreed, though before she could continue, a voice shouted out, "Daphne!"

When we all turned around towards the source of the voice, Daphne arched her eyebrows at the sight of her father.

"Dad?" Daphne asked.

"Daphne, you alright?" Mr. Blake asked as he rushed over to Daphne and placed his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh..." I could see Daphne's mind racing as she glanced at us. "I was just visiting my friend Velma, who's interning here, for a story."

"Ah." Mr. Blake turned towards Velma. "Is that right?"

"Yes, Mr. Blake." Velma went along with the story. "I was on my break when Daphne came for her story, and we were in the middle of our interview when all h*ll broke loose by..."

Velma trailed off as she gestured towards the taped off room, and Mr. Blake nodded understandingly as she continued, "...whatever happened in there."

"I can see that." Mr. Blake nodded, though before he could continue, another voice barked, "Norville!"

_Blast! _I should've known that with Benson the latest casualty of the werewolf attacks, it was only matter of time before Dad arrives with his men.

Sure enough, as we all turned around, there was Dad marching down the hallway with one of his men, and he certainly looked deeply pissed when he saw me.

I didn't think that Dad could be more pissed than when he saw us standing there, but boy, was I wrong, because his eyes narrowed into stilts when he saw Mr. Blake as well.

"Blake." Dad growled as he approached us, and Daphne turned towards me.

"Rogers." Mr. Blake replied back. "I hope I didn't catch you on a bad time."

Dad was unequivocal. "Oh, I'm just getting started."

Then, he turned towards me and continued, "It seems like our little talk more than a week ago wasn't enough, son."

I swallowed as I looked up at Dad, who then demanded, "Care to explain what the h*ll are you doing here?"

There was some tense, uncomfortable silence as we stared at each other, during which the man accompanying Dad said, "Uh, I'm gonna check in with the fellas inside if you don't mind, sir."

Dad only nodded before the man ducked under the crime scene tape and made his way into the room.

When I didn't reply, not exactly sure where to start, Dad pulled me towards him as he asked, "Do you need me to repeat my question, son?"

Fortunately, Fred decided to jump in at that moment to come to my defence.

"I believe I can explain everything, Lieutenant Rogers." Fred said.

Immediately, Dad turned towards him and asked, "Fred Jones, I presume?"

"Yes, sir." Fred nodded. "My Dad is-"

"Yes, I know who your father is." Dad said. "Though-"

While Dad was speaking, I just remembered that Mr. Blake was still standing there and I probably should've speak up to Dad about going someplace else to talk, because all in a sudden, Mr. Blake looked at me and said, "Hey, I remember you! You were at State Senator Daggett's campaign office a few days ago, weren't you?"

The revelation hit Dad like a ton of bricks, and he turned back towards me, and I knew I was in a heap of trouble.

"You what?!" Dad snarled at me.

"Uh...as Fred said, Lieutenant Rogers." Velma piped up. "We could...uh...explain everything."

* * *

By the time we all finished everything that has happened in the past few days, particularly the part with Benson, it was clear that Dad was beyond pissed.

"Clearly, that little talk we had almost a week ago wasn't enough." Dad snapped, the tone in his voice sounded like he was addressing Fred and the girls as well as me. "You do realize what your little stunt has resulted in?!"

"Seems to me that your son could use some more discipline, Rogers." Mr. Blake remarked, though Dad immediately turned towards him.

"You stay out of this, Blake." Dad snarled. "I might've been under your charge back in the day, but those days are long ago, and here-"

"Issues of discipline seems to run into your family, Rogers. You're just too stubborn to acknowledge-" Mr. Blake retorted.

"I might be stubborn, Blake." Dad said. "But at least I know when I'm doing the right-"

"Right?!" Blake scoffed in disbelief. "If you've decided to go along with the plan back then, some of our squad members would still be alive today-"

"Plan?!" Dad was almost shouting. "Those civilians were unarmed, for Ch**st's sake, and it's one thing to ignore the major's orders to abandon the rescue when we got made, but showing a total disregard to civilians, enemy or not, is a whole different-"

"We were at war, Rogers." Mr. Blake shouted as he got into Dad's face. "You really think that in a situation like that, we would have time to think this plan through when we have to make a split-decision-"

"Hey, maybe the major made a split-decision and I've decided that they were more lawful than what you've lead the squad to believe-"

"Oh, so now it's a matter of belief then, isn't it?" Mr. Blake snapped. "Tell me then, Rogers. Your accusations of Barty Daggett ordering the murder of your wife, was that a belief?"

There was a long pause as Dad continued to glare at Mr. Blake, and both of them were panting from their argument as we looked on.

Then, in a calmer but firm voice, Dad said, "My wife was killed while in the midst of doing the right thing, and I prefer to live with that than robbing others of their wealth by being in close cahoots with the likes of the state senator."

"Hey, you know d**n well that I've worked my butt off to get to where I am, Rogers!" Mr. Blake pointed at my father accusingly.

"Sure you did." Dad scoffed before he turned towards me and said, "As for you, son, starting this moment, consider yourself grounded until further-"

"Dad, I wasn't even planning on being around them, not to mention-" I tried to speak, only for Dad to shut me down.

"Don't interrupt me, son." Dad snapped, and I immediately knew better than to further protest. "In fact, I'm gonna see to it, right this moment, that you head straight home and learn to control your language."

Without missing a beat, he then grabbed me by the arm, as if he was arresting a suspect, and tugged me down the hallway.

Along the way, Dad stopped by Mr. Blake and added, "And Blake, you stay the h*ll away from my family."

Turning his glare towards Daphne, he then added, "That goes for **you** too, young lady."

Then, he stopped by Fred and Velma and added, "As for you two, I have no d**n idea what the h*ll your parents were even thinking, but I'm only gonna say this once: Make this the **last** time you play detective."

Without missing a beat, Dad then tugged me down the hallway forcefully while everyone else looked on.

As he tugged me past the room, one of his men, who was in the process of stepping out of the room, stopped us, prompting Dad to pause and turn towards him.

"Chan, I'm going to take off." He barked as he also glared at the two men in the room. "Make sure you, Detective Claphammer and Detective Neville have your preliminary crime scene reports at my office first thing tomorrow morning."

"Sir, I think you should-" Chan was about to say, only for Dad to cut him off.

"Do I make myself loud and clear?" Dad barked.

"Of course, sir, but I was just trying to say that it wasn't cool of you to yell at Mr. Blake-" Chan tried to speak, only for Dad to intensify his glare.

"Do you need me to repeat myself, or do you need me to book you on that flight back to Honolulu, Detective?" Dad asked.

There was a pause as Chan stared at my father blankly, then he shook his head.

"No, sir." Chan said.

"Good." Dad replied before he resumed tugging me down the hallway without another word.

* * *

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	12. A favour and at police archives

Chapter 12: A favour and at police archives

_October 24, 1968_

**(Third Person)**

That morning, Fred was in the process of finishing his breakfast when his father Skip stopped by with the morning newspaper in hand.

"I heard what happened yesterday at the General Hospital." Skip said in greeting. "Think you'd like to discuss it?"

Fred sighed as he munched on his high-protein cereal, then he put his spoon down and said, "We were this close to gettin' to the bottom of whatever's going on with this Werewolf business, Dad."

"And not only did our lead witness got killed, but you guys also got shut down by Lieutenant Sam Rogers." Skip nodded as he sat down at the dining table.

"That's an understatement, Dad." Fred said. "You should've seen the argument Lieutenant Rogers had with Mr. Blake, with whom he had a history with from their time in the war."

As Skip flipped open the morning newspaper, the blonde then added, "Say, Dad, any chance you've had crossed paths with Mr. Blake and Lieutenant Rogers during your time in JAG?"

Skip paused briefly at the question, then he put down the newspaper before turning towards Fred.

"As a matter a fact, I had." Skip replied. "I was part of the prosecution team that was trying then-Technical Sergeant George Blake for mutiny, and then-Sergeant Sam Rogers was one of our witnesses, along with their commanding officer Major Robert Calloway."

"It had something to do with a mission, I presume?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Skip nodded. "Now, I'm not going into the case specifics, because much of the information remains classified, at least, it still was at the time of my discharge. But long story short, the major had led a task force to infiltrate a warlord's hideout to rescue some prisoners of war before calling in an airstrike in the course of the Volcano and Ryukyu Islands campaign in early January of '45."

"However, the task force got made during the rescue mission." Fred interjected.

"That's right, and considering the warlord's reputation for being responsible for several heavy losses incurred by the allies and has the ability to slip away easily undetected, they knew that the infiltration was also their only shot at the warlord." Skip said. "Long story short, the major made a split-decision to call in the airstrike, before the locals could raise the alarm and spread the work back to the warlord himself."

"Which Mr. Blake opposed because of the prisoners of war that remained held in the hideout." Fred said.

"Yes, though what also mattered were the civilians living under the warlord's brutal rule." Skip nodded. "Evacuating them wasn't an option, not with the armed presence from the warlord's men."

"What ultimately happened?" Fred asked.

"Well, Technical Sergeant Blake ultimately disobeyed orders from the major by leading a squad into the hideout to try to find the prisoners before the airstrike arrives." Skip replied. "Sergeant Rogers and the rest of the task force sit back, not long after the sergeant argued with Blake against trying to mount the rescue."

"Was the rescue successful?" Fred was now curious.

"It was, but at a cost." Skip said. "Technical Sergeant Blake was the sole survivor after his squad got engaged in a firefight while trying to sneak the prisoners out of the hideout, and while they were able to rescue all five POWs, it came at the cost of nine Marines that followed Blake into the compound."

"And what became of the warlord?" Fred folded his arms.

"Warlord escaped, only to be killed when the Japanese warship carrying him got sunk during Operation Ten-Go three months after the aborted mission." Skip said. "Blake claimed that had Rogers followed through with the plan and provided adequate cover, then his nine squad mates would've been alive."

"Huh." Fred nodded thoughtfully before he asked, "What was the verdict?"

"The panel was split." Skip replied simply. "Though we decided to drop the charges of mutiny."

"I see." Fred remarked before resuming eating his cereal.

A short while later, just as Fred was preparing to head out for school, he thought of something and stopped by the kitchen door.

"Uh, Dad?" Fred asked.

"Yeah?" Skip asked.

"Do you have any reason to think that Benson would've spilled the beans on everything pertaining to the werewolf case after what he had done?" Fred asked.

Skip paused for a moment as he thought of something, then he replied, "Supposed that Benson has some sort of contingency plan in place should he ever fall out of favour with whoever he's _**really **_working for, like the mayor for example. Being a cop, he's gotta be smart to figure things out if it ever comes to that."

"You really think that his death at the hospital had something to do with the shady s**t he and whoever's involved in this werewolf mess behind the scenes are very deep into as the feds come sniffin' around?" Fred remarked.

"I'm saying its a possibility, son." Skip replied. "Who knows, maybe the mastermind was afraid that Benson would get cold feet when the feds start asking questions and zero in on him, and so he had him killed to prevent him from talking."

"Right." Fred nodded. "The first attempt failed, because Benson managed to fight back, though the killer was ultimately more successful in finishing the deed."

"Which also makes you wonder how deep State Senator Daggett is involved in all of this." Skip said. "After all, Benson was killed moments before Daggett was supposed to make his campaign announcement at the hospital."

"That, too." Fred nodded again. "What sort of contingency plans do you think Benson would have?"

"I wouldn't know." Skip shrugged. "Whatever it is, it could be some form of insurance against any potential form of blowback."

At the mention of the word "insurance", something occurred to Fred.

"Insurance..." Fred tapped his chin before turning towards his father and nodded, "Alright, Dad. Appreciate it."

"Any time, son." The former JAG officer smiled before Fred made his way through the front door.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Fred." Velma was saying during lunch period. "I don't think I've heard you right. You wanna do what?"

"Yeah, I know its unorthodox." Fred raised his hands in a calming gesture. "But after what my father and I discussed this morning, I can't help but think that Benson's death had something to with whatever turmoil that's occurring within the conspiracy he was involved in."

"And you're saying that Benson's apartment holds the key to the answer regarding what is going really on in all of this mess." Velma frowned. "First, we got called out by Shaggy's father for 'playing detective', and now you're suggesting that we conduct a breaking and entering into a murder victim's apartment?"

"Well, I'm sure that Shaggy's father isn't going to willingly let us access the victim's apartment after yesterday." Fred said. "Not to mention that we can't take any chances in the potential to lose crucial evidence to this case with the pace the current investigation is conducted by the police."

"True." Velma nodded thoughtfully. "Though I still don't like this."

"Yes, I know." Fred said. "However, compared to failing to stop a killer from remaining on the loose on the streets, having a B and E on our conscious is a slap on the wrist by comparison, especially when we're reaching a crucial break that can get us to the bottom of the case."

"Which is exactly why I'm in." Velma said.

"Well, I know that you don't want whatever it is that we're going to do to end up tarnishing your chances in-" Fred said, only to stop himself when he registered Velma's last remark and backtracked, "Sorry, what did you just say?"

"I just said that I'm in." Velma said. "After coming this far into the case, only to get shut out as we were approaching the crucial lead, I'm not about to sit around and do nothing while the city's still in danger with a killer on the loose."

Fred immediately placed his hands on Velma's shoulders and smiled.

"Perfect." The blonde said. "So do you think you could do this with me this afternoon after school?"

"Of course." Velma nodded. "I don't have science club meetings on Thursdays, plus my parents are both out of town and Maddie's volunteering at the library after school, so I've got time."

"Alright, then." Fred nodded.

* * *

Over at the Coolsville Central building, a whole afternoon went by as Sam and his three-person task force chase through whatever leads they had on the Benson case.

As usual, though, the only conclusive lead they had were the wolf claws found on the nightstand beside Benson's hospital bed.

Seated in his office, Lieutenant Sam Rogers was reviewing the preliminary crime scene report submitted to him by the trio, though the scowl on his face was very much evident as he read through the details while listening to the conversation from the squad room.

"Are you willing to bet that the claws we've found at the scene is gonna match all those other f**king claws from the previous scene, Beau?" Claphammer can be heard remarking.

"No, not at all, Walt." Neville scoffed. "I'm sure it's a foregone conclusion even without the forensic analysis."

"You can say that again." Claphammer agreed before slamming his file drawer shut. "What a f**king waste of our time."

The detective slammed the drawer shut rather hard, as it produced a very loud "Bang!" as it completely shut, the anger and annoyance inside him very much evident.

"Hey, hey, cool your jets, Walt." Chan stood up from his seat and raised his hand in a calming gesture, and Neville and Claphammer turned towards him. "There's no need to be all doom and gloom about the progress in the case."

"Oh yeah?" Claphammer asked, visibly annoyed. "What makes you say that, Charlie?"

"After everything we've gone through for this case and still no leads, maybe it's time we should reconsider our investigative strategy." Chan offered.

Claphammer and Neville glanced at each other, then the latter asked, "We're listening, Chan."

"So everything we've went through so far, it's usually a repeat of the same thing." Chan pointed out before turning towards the blackboard, grabbed a piece of chalk and began writing.

"Most of the victims..." Chan said as he began writing on the chalkboard, "...were abducted from their rooms, save for the latest victim, who was torn up on his hospital bed after initially surviving an attack while on a hike at the park..."

Taking a brief break from the writing, Chan exhaled before he resumed writing and continued, "Wolf claws were found at where they were grabbed, and so far, everything we've seen would suggest that the killer targeted its victims at random."

"Right." Neville folded his arms.

"Right, so..." Chan continued writing on the chalkboard. "What if we've been doing this all wrong? What if there's something out there that we didn't see that connects the victims?"

"You think those kids were onto something?" Claphammer asked.

"I'm saying it's a possibility." Chan nodded as he turned towards the duo.

As the trio continued with their conversation, Sam was starting to feel like he's had enough for the day before he put down the report he was reading and took off his reading glasses.

The lieutenant then exhaled and picked up his suit jacket before stepping out of his office just as Chan was saying, "Maybe we should ask those kids over and have them compare notes with us."

Claphammer and Neville were both nodded when Sam added in, "I've got a better idea, gentlemen."

When the trio turned towards him, Sam said, "What about we ask them to mind their own business and stop snooping at where their noses don't belong?"

"Sheez, Lieutenant." Chan said. "You don't need to spoil the-"

"Those kids should've known better about the dangers on what they've done, because if it weren't for them, the latest victim would still be alive, and-" Sam growled, only to be cut off by Claphammer.

"We don't know that, Lieutenant." Claphammer quickly said. "Charlie's right. Those kids are probably on to something, and that something should be-"

"That's what you all think." Sam snapped. "However, I wouldn't put too much stock on what they have to say, especially when one of them is a Blake!"

Detecting the anger in the lieutenant's voice, Chan glanced towards Claphammer and Neville before he asked, "What is it that Mr. George Blake did that pissed you off so badly, sir?"

Sam glared at him briefly before he lowered his voice and said, "Let's just say that he did something incredibly reckless during the war and that he should've faced the consequences for his recklessness."

Without another word, the lieutenant closed and locked his office door before heading out, during which Chan prompted, "Where are you going, Lieutenant?"

"I'm done for the day." Sam replied without stopping. "Time to head home."

Claphammer and Neville both turned towards Chan briefly before they, too, grabbed their belongings from their cubicle.

"You may be onto something with your theory, Charlie." Neville said as he put on his suit jacket. "However, both Claphammer and I have engagements to attend to tonight, so we have to go now."

Chan nodded, though just as Claphammer and Neville were stepping out of the squad room, he thought of something and stopped them.

"Before you guys go, can you show me where they keep the **cold case** files?" Chan asked.

* * *

A short while later, Chan was at the cold case archives at the basement of the building, where he approached the lone clerk at the desk.

"Can I help you?" The clerk asked.

"Yes." Chan nodded. "I was wondering if you can pull a file for me."

"Of course." The clerk nodded. "Name?"

Chan reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his badge and wallet. "Chan. Detective Charles Chan of Central Division."

"And what files would you like to check out, Detective?" The clerk asked.

"The Crown Murders of '52." Chan replied.

The clerk paused as she consulted a list on the desk, flipping through some pages in the process, then she looked up at Chan.

"I'm sorry, Detective." The clerk said apologetically. "But I don't have your name on the list of people authorized to check out cold case files."

"What?" Chan asked. "Can you check again?"

The clerk nodded and double-checked the list, then she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but your name isn't on the list." She said. "I haven't received any documentation pertaining to you getting authorization to check out cold case files."

"Are you f**king serious?" Chan scoffed. "I've been here for more than a week, I'm pretty sure I've already filled out the forms on my first day, yet I'm still not authorized to check out cold case files?!"

"The department's must still be processing the forms, Detective." The clerk shrugged apologetically. "You know how slow they can be."

Chan sighed as he turned around briefly as she added, "Maybe try again tomorrow, Detective. I might receive the authorization forms by then."

Chan nodded as he made his way towards the door, then he stopped and turned around as he thought of something.

"Actually, the files aren't for me." Chan said. "They're actually for my supervisor Lieutenant Sam Rogers. He's gone for the day, though before he left, he explicitly asked that I checked out that file from here and leave it on his desk so he could take a read at them first thing tomorrow morning."

The clerk only stared at him as Chan continued, "He wasn't in a good mood when he left, and I'm sure he would have a fit if he doesn't see the file on his desk tomorrow morning and he would storm down here to get it himself."

Then, looking at the clerk in the eye, Chan said, "Might as well save us both the trouble by letting me sign those files out under his name."

The clerk sighed, then she nodded and tapped her finger on the sign-out sheet. "Just put his name on the sheet here."

"Of course." Chan nodded as he proceeded to write down Sam's name on the sheet.

* * *

A short while later, Chan walked out of the records room with a stack of files in hand.

The clerk watched him leave before taking the sign out sheet on the desk and reached over to the telephone and dialed a number.

She drummed her fingers as she waited for the party at the other end to answer, during which she briefly glanced at the time on her wristwatch.

Eventually, the party at the other end answered, and she said, "Hey, this is Mary Jane from police records."

After a brief pause, Mary Jane continued, "I'm sure you'd like to know that someone's been digging into the old case files again."

A brief pause went by before she nodded, "You know which ones."

After another pause, the clerk said, "Yeah. It's Lieutenant Sam Rogers."

* * *

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	13. It hits the fan

**Author's Note: The copyright of the lyrics indicated in _italics _belongs to The Platters.**

* * *

Chapter 13: It hits the fan

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

I had the Platters' 1956 _Mercury Records _album playing on full blast on the gramophone player as I sat at my desk reading the radio show script I was asked to prepare for this Saturday's show.

Twirling the pencil in my hand, I sighed as the gramophone player began playing the lyrics of a new track in the album.

"_When the twilight is gone..._" The opening line was interjected by a brief chorus. "..._and no songbirds are singing._"

"_When the twilight is gone..._" I sighed during the chorus. "..._you come into my heart._"

"_And here in my heart you will stay..._" At that line, I circled something on the script with the pencil. "..._While I pray._"

As the gramophone player began playing the slow-tempo introductory notes with the drums and guitar notes in the transition to the first verse, I sighed once again.

It might have been more than a week since Benson delivered that bombshell allegation on the potential of State Senator Daggett having something to do with the "car accident" that killed Mom, though all it has was reopening those painful memories I've thought I've overcome by now.

"_My prayer...i__s to linger with you..._" As the Platters continued with that first verse, I sighed as I looked at the script once again. "_At the end of the day...__In a dream that's divine_"

Reading the part where the main character stormed out of an argument with his mother, I sighed before pushing the script aside.

"_My prayer...__is a rapture in blue..._" With this song continuing on, I'm not sure if I could carry on reading the script when all it does is throwing more of those memories of Mom right at me. "_With the world far away...__And your lips close to mine._"

I was tempted to take the needle off the vinyl disk when the doorbell rang, and I guess you can say that I welcomed the intrusion into my thoughts.

Without missing a beat, I got up from my chair and walked right over to the front door. Could be Maggie returning home from her day at the choir, though it's not like her to misplace her house key.

There was a knock on the door, and I called out, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

_Sheez. Can't you find your keys, Mags?_ I almost said out loud as I unlocked the front door and opened it, annoyed as I expected Maggie to be standing at the other side of the door.

However, when I opened the door, I thought my hair jumped when I saw that there was someone else standing at the other side of the door. Someone I was the least expecting.

"Daphne?" I exclaimed in surprise.

The redhead nodded before she said, "Hi...Shag."

With an awkward glance, Daphne then continued, "I hope...I haven't caught you in a...bad time."

I exhaled and pulled the door open. "Not really, though I wasn't expecting you."

As I let her into the house, I added, "After what had happened yesterday, I didn't expect to see you again, so...I suppose you won't mind me asking what brings you here?"

"Well, I was, uh, hoping we could talk." Daphne replied as she stepped in and I closed the door.

"Mind if we, uh, talk in my room?" I asked. "My Dad's still at work, though he's expected to be home within the hour or so."

"It won't take long, I promise." Daphne assured me as I led her to my bedroom.

While I led her down the hallway, Daphne took the time to glance at the photos of my family and I.

She was, in particular, interested in Dad's service photos.

"I didn't know your Dad made Lieutenant Colonel in the Corps after the war." Daphne remarked as we climbed up the stairs.

"Yeah, like, he kinda stayed around after the war." I explained. "Korea, that is, though he was mainly in reserves while he was working full time in the NYPD."

"I see." Daphne nodded understandingly before I led her into my bedroom.

As we entered, Scooby, who was resting by the door, perked up.

"Hi Scooby." Daphne greeted him softly and rubbed him in the head as we entered my room.

By this point, the lead singer of the Platters was singing, "_For as long as we live...__That you'll always be there...__at the end of my...prayer...!_"

As the band and drums began playing the closing chords of the song, Daphne turned towards me and said, "The July 1956 _Mercury Records_ album of The Platters."

I glanced at her as I removed the needle from the vinyl disk, during which she continued, "That track was a rendition of _My Prayer_, which was originally published as _Avant de mourir _in 1926 by Georges Boulanger, while Jimmy Kennedy and Carlos Barrera added the lyrics to the song in 1939."

I nodded as I turned towards her, then I said, "Sounds like you know your pop music."

Daphne smiled briefly. "I wasn't born yesterday."

I smiled back at her before I sat down on my chair while she sat on my bed and I asked, "So what would you like to discuss?"

Hesitatingly, Daphne said, "It's...related to what happened...at the hospital yesterday."

I've figured as much, and I nodded. "I don't suppose your Dad had a talk with you after that...um...debacle, eh?"

"He did, and much like your father said to you, he told me not to be anywhere close to you, and I suppose to your sister by extension as well." Daphne replied. "He doesn't know that I'm here."

"I'm sure he doesn't." I nodded again. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that whatever it is that he said to you yesterday was more than enough to prompt you to...come drop by a visit here."

"You don't even know half the story, but I digress, you were right about the reasoning behind your father calling me out at the station initially that day." Daphne said. "From they've said during their argument yesterday, something did happen between them during the war."

"Right." I said. "Though I suppose what happened yesterday wasn't exactly the main topic you're thinking of discussing with me with right now."

Daphne nodded. "I was thinking about the 'volunteering' work you did at State Senator Daggett's campaign headquarters."

She then frowned as she added, "How long were you there for?"

I winced. "Only for three days, and like, my role was to address envelopes by hand."

"When was it that you saw my Dad?" Daphne asked.

"On the 22nd, he was supposedly the state senator's associate, as the state senator said when he expressed his gratitude for our efforts." I replied before I scoffed and added, "You know, he certainly fits the type of profile of a politician who is completely full of it."

"What makes you think the state senator's achievements at Sacramento and election promises are full of it?" Daphne folded her arms.

"For one thing, how the heck do you expect him to be able to get the funds for his Interstate Highway linking us to San Francisco and send more troops to Vietnam when he's gonna lower taxes?" I pointed out. "I mean, the money's gotta come from somewhere, and you could only secure so much loans that would leave us on the hook when we have to pay it back, with interest may I add."

"That's more or less what the mayor also supports, yet he doesn't seem to be getting as much attention as State Senator Daggett does." Daphne pointed out.

"Yeah, though I suppose Daggett's campaign for Capitol Hill makes him a more high-profile politician, not to mention the fact that he's one of the city's wealthiest citizens and was chair of a company whose reputation isn't exactly exemplary." I countered. "Whereas the mayor, well, he's always been a politician."

"Fair enough." Daphne nodded. "But anyways, I digress, what is it that you've had while you were 'volunteering' at the state senator's campaign office?"

I looked at her in the eye. "Like, it's more to do with your father's relationship with him, and I don't think you're gonna like it."

Daphne's face remained expressionless. "I'm all ears."

"If you say so." I shrugged. "Granted, it wasn't much, as what I've gathered were more of snippets of his conversation with Daggett, but long story short, Daggett does sound very concerned about the feds sniffing around, and based on what we've gathered so far as a group, it may tie into this whole werewolf mess."

Maintaining the deadpan on her face, Daphne simply nodded as if she was telling me to continue.

Taking a breath, I continued, "Your father responded by saying that Daggett should've known better before investing in the venture, which I believe is what the feds are looking into right now, adding that he would rather be living in a poorhouse than be robbing others of their wealth as a result of being in cahoots with Daggett."

Then, I glanced at the time on my watch before continuing, "Daggett then reminded your father that he's also deep into whatever mess they're in, adding that there's no way your father's going to walk out of this venture scot-free. He even mentioned the family car that my mother was driving when she was killed in that accident seven years ago."

"So you're saying that my father's involved in this mess." Daphne asked.

"Worse." I clarified. "Like, based on what I've gathered, it's safe to say that I think your father is being blackmailed by his former business partner."

What followed was some uncomfortable silence between the two of us as we stared at each other, and I was expecting Daphne to disagree with my assessment.

Much to my surprise, Daphne nodded thoughtfully.

"You actually may be onto something, Shag." Daphne said. "And it's not because that's what you've wanted me to say. Rather, I do have something that would back your claims up."

"About your father's deteriorating relationship with State Senator Daggett?" I asked.

"Yes." Daphne nodded. "It's from several weeks ago while I was assisting the editor in researching a piece covering a toxic chemical spill at the Industrial Yards, and I've uncovered some information that would've indicated that my father has been suspecting that Daggett is responsible for cooking the books for quite some time before he entered politics."

"Cooking the books?" I arched my eyebrows. "Zoinks!"

"I know." Daphne agreed. "And my father has been meaning to confront the state senator about the matter, though since the forensic accountant's disappearance, he's been worried that he might become a target."

"Or to put it this way." I offered. "Your father's caught between a rock and a hard place. He wants to uncover whatever it is that Daggett is up to, but he's very much afraid of the blowback faced by his family, especially you, and that he doesn't want to pay the same price that my Dad paid."

"There you go." Daphne nodded, and I suppose you can say that after all this time, I could see the understanding and agreement in her eyes.

Before we could continue further, we heard the front door getting unlocked, and then the door creaked open.

"Norville?" My dad called out. "You home?"

"_S**t!_" I grumbled as I turned towards Daphne urgently, during which I caught myself cussing. "Dad's home, and he's going to be beyond pissed if he sees you here."

As we scrambled to figure out a way to get Daphne out of the house without getting noticed by Dad, the redhead nodded towards the window.

"Do you think he'll notice me if I go out the window?" She asked.

"You crazy?" I asked. "I don't think you're gonna fool someone who was a Marine Raider during the war."

"Right." Daphne stopped herself, though it was then that Dad gently pushed the door open and he stopped in his tracks as we turned around to face him.

No words can describe the shock on his face when he saw Daphne in my room, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he chews at me.

For a while, except for Scooby's whine, there was some silence as you can feel the tension hanging in the air, thick enough for it to be cut with a knife.

Then, Dad exhaled and said, "Hello, Miss Blake."

"Lieutenant Rogers." Daphne replied. "I-I was just leaving."

"Of course you were." Dad snorted. "What brings you here?"

Daphne glanced at me briefly before she explained, "I was...um...here to ask Shag about some questions on...our English assignment."

"That a fact?" Dad drawled as he turned towards me.

"Yes." I quickly nodded. "Like, she just got an English assignment that's similar to the one I was given a couple weeks ago, and I was just giving her instructions on how to proceed."

In spite of the convincing tone in my voice, I could tell that Dad knew that I was lying, and who were we kidding.

You really ought to be out of your mind if you think you could get away with lying to a seasoned cop, especially when that seasoned cop is your parent.

Without taking his eyes off Daphne, Dad scoffed as he said to me, "Apparently, our talk yesterday wasn't really enough, Norville. The situation at the station was strike one, and yesterday's debacle at the hospital was strike two."

With the anger raising in his voice, Dad then added, "You do know that when you reach three strikes, you're-"

"Daphne and I were just discussing stuff." I quickly cut in. "Like, her father doesn't even know she's here!"

"Oh, is that right?" Dad asked. "What do you know, that makes it the two of you, it seems."

Then, without particularly addressing either one of us, Dad continued, "You know what these three strikes means?"

Without waiting for either of us to answer, not that I think he expects us to answer, Dad said, "It means that the parents of you four kids aren't doing a great job disciplining you all, myself included, and that we need one of you to get seriously hurt in order to learn a lesson!"

Daph and I both jumped at Dad's outburst, and we glanced at each other.

"Not listening to your parent is one thing, lying to them is another thing!" Dad continued as he glared squarely at the both of us. "Do you really need me to gather all the other parents together so we could all properly discipline each of you?!"

Before either Daphne and I could respond, the doorbell rang, and Dad looked visibly annoyed.

"Go see who's at the door, Scoobert." Dad instructed Scoob, who quickly complied and took off, probably to get out of my room while he still can before he gets caught in the storm that's brewing inside.

As Scooby raced down the stairs, Dad turned his attention back to the two of us and fixated his patented glare.

"Well?" He demanded. "What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

It was then that we heard the door unlock and opened downstairs, and a voice said, "Lieutenant Rogers, are you home?"

We both saw the expression on Dad's face changed to disbelief, and he said, "What the h*ll?"

He then turned away, but not before saying to us, "You both stay here, we're not finished with this discussion."

I only nodded as we watched Dad climbed down the stairs, whereupon he said, "Detective Chan, what the h*ll are you doing here?"

"Lieutenant, we need to talk." Chan said as Daphne and I approached the top of the stairs, and Dad marched into the kitchen as Chan followed.

As Dad poured himself a cup of coffee, Chan continued, "So I've been looking into Benson's death and been trying to take a look at these murders from a different angle. Long story short, it soon brought me to the Crown murders of '52."

Crown murders. It seems like everyone we've run into always has something to do with the 16-year old cold case.

Daphne and I slowly climbed down the stairs as Chan flipped open the file and said, "Benson was the first officer to arrive at the scene, and you know how there's been rumours that Crown's opponent in the mayoral race was involved in the murders?"

We saw Dad put down his mug of coffee as he turned towards Chan, during which the detective continued.

"Anyways, Benson later quit the force to work security for Mayor Jones, who was the protege of Crown's opponent, and I've got word that prior to his initial attack, Benson was approached by the feds who were looking into allegations of corruption at City Hall and at the State Capitol." Chan continued. "All of which were pointed towards State Senator Daggett, another ally of Crown's opponent, and the mayor."

The frown on Dad's face deepened as Chan looked at him and said, "Whatever this is, Lieutenant, it's big and goes a whole lot deeper than what we've been chasing in the past while. I can feel it."

At that remark, Dad narrowed his eyes.

"You get the h*ll out of my house, Detective." Dad said.

"Sir, whatever the h*ll's going on here with this werewolf thing, it's **big**." Chan retorted. "And by big, I mean very big, spelled in capital letters. I just have this gut feeling."

Before Dad could respond, the telephone on the kitchen counter rang.

_Now what? _I could see the look on Dad's face say as he reached over to pick up the telephone. "Hello?"

* * *

**(Third Person)**

Sam was visibly annoyed as he picked up the phone, though he didn't show his annoyance in his tone of voice as he answered it.

Having not saw Maggie home from her babysitting, Sam figured that Maggie was calling home to check in and tell him that she's on her way home.

Instead, much to his surprise, it was Pistol at the other end of the line.

"Hello, Lieutenant Rogers." Pistol answered.

"Pistol?!" Sam exclaimed, and Shaggy and Daphne glanced at each other. "How the h*ll did you get my number? What's going on?"

"Oh, you ask me, Rogers." Pistol snorted.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, Rogers." Pistol said. "We know what you've done earlier this evening."

"Done what?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Oh, I suppose that solves the mystery as to how you became lieutenant." Pistol snorted. "Either way, you were f**king warned to stay away from records, lest that another accident happens to someone in your family."

"R-records?" Sam asked as he turned towards Chan and saw the file he was holding. "Pistol, what the h*ll is going on?"

"You've checked out an old file this evening, which crossed the red line!" Pistol replied. "If you wanna see your daughter again, you **put the _d*mn_ file back**."

"My daughter...?" Sam trailed off as realization set in. "Where is she, Pistol?!"

"She's somewhere safe." Pistol responded humourlessly. "But whether or not it stays that way is totally up to you."

"Pistol, wait-!" Sam shouted, only for the gangster to hang up at the other end of the line.

Shaggy, Daphne and Chan were all looking at the lieutenant, during which the detective saw the horrified look on Sam's face and asked, "What's going on, Lieutenant?"

Almost immediately, the look of horror on Sam's face turned to rage as he suddenly grabbed Chan by the collar and slammed him onto the nearby wall.

"You f**king, stupid jacka**!" Sam shouted as he slammed Chan right into the wall. "You checked these d*mn files under my name?!"

"What? The records don't even have my authorization forms in, which means I can't check out old files, Lieutenant." Chan replied hysterically. "I was trying to-"

"Th-th-they've got my d-daughter." Sam broke down as he let go of his grip on Chan's collar and stepped backwards, during which Shaggy and Daphne rushed over to his side.

"Who does, Lieutenant?" Chan asked.

"The real people that controls this town." Sam responded. "The same bastards that had my wife killed!"

Shaggy glanced at Daphne in confirmation of what they've been suspecting all along while Chan scratched his head and asked, "Your wife...?"

"I...used to be like you, Chan." Sam confessed. "When I first arrived at this town following my stint in New York, I used to tell anyone who tries to get me to go with the flow and look the other way that they can d*mn themselves to h*ll."

With a sigh, he then continued, "Then, my wife got killed in that automobile accident."

Chan certainly looked stunned at the revelation, and the lieutenant continued, "To be honest, I don't know if those dirtbags organized that accident or not...guess I would never know, but one thing's for certain."

Looking at Chan right in the eye, Sam said, "The reason why I let the likes of Pistol run the streets is not because I get paid like others do."

When Chan arched his eyebrows, Sam explained, "I did it to keep my children and our family dog safe. They're all I have left, especially since..."

He then turned towards Shaggy as he continued, "...I've came close to losing my son Norville in that same accident that killed my wife."

As Scooby whined in sympathy, Daphne turned towards Shaggy in surprise, during which Shaggy raised his hand gently.

With panic setting back in, Sam placed his hands on his head and said, "We've gotta return those files!"

"And what makes you absolutely sure that your daughter would be returned safe and sound after that, Lieutenant?" Chan asked. "If you don't stand up for yourself, those dirtbags are gonna go after you and your family forever."

"Well, what the h*ll do you expect me to do?" Sam asked. "There's no one in the division I know that can be trusted!"

"You can trust me, Lieutenant." Chan quickly said. "I mean, you may not like the way I've gotten you into this mess in the first place, but surely you can trust me."

Sam paused before turning towards Chan, and Shaggy and Daphne shared glances with each other.

The lieutenant exhaled, and then he asked, "What do you suggest that we do?"

Chan turned around, during which Scooby thought of something and rushed out of the kitchen and went up the stairs.

The four all raised an eyebrow as Scooby reached Shaggy's room and went through some stuff in his closet, then he returned back down the stairs, during which everyone arched their eyebrows when they saw the Great Dane holding a baseball bat.

Putting the baseball bat onto the floor, Scooby looked up to Sam and Chan and barked.

Chan leaned down to pick up the baseball bat, then he turned towards Sam as he said, "You know the corner where Pistol works at, right?"

"Of course." Sam replied.

"If I'm not mistaken, Lieutenant, I believe that your pet wants us to see if Pistol enjoys baseball." Chan replied.

Sam looked at the baseball bat in Chan's hand, then at Chan before he nodded with a firm look of determination on his face.

It was a look Shaggy sworn that he has never seen before, though he could tell that it was the same look of determination that his father used to wear everyday at work before the accident.

As Sam and Chan began to mobilize, the lieutenant turned towards Shaggy and Daphne, who were still standing at the doorway to the kitchen.

"Here's what I want the two of you to do while Detective Chan and I are away." Sam said. "I want-"

"With all due respect, Lieutenant Rogers, I don't think you're going to be successful in persuading Shag and I in staying put here." Daphne spoke up before Sam could finish. "If you're going to continue to judge me for what my father has done, then by all means."

Shaggy looked on as the redhead continued, "However, after everything you've been through, the least I could do is to be of any assistance in helping you rescue Maggie from wherever she's being held."

Then, turning towards Shaggy, she then added, "In fact, I'm sure Shag would be inclined to agree with me as well."

Sam sighed as he turned towards Shaggy, who said, "Like, we're losing time, Pops. If you really want us to be able to stand on our own feet, the least you could do is showcase us **_how _**to prepare ourselves."

Sam turned towards Daphne, who nodded firmly with a questioning glance.

Finally, the lieutenant nodded. "Very well. Grab your gear and let's get rolling."

As Sam walked past them, Daphne turned towards Shaggy as Scooby joined them.

"If I'm not mistaken, Scooby wants to join in on the action, Shag." Daphne said as she rubbed Scooby in the head.

"I'm sure we could use Scooby's help on this as well, Daph." Shaggy agreed.

As the trio headed up the stairs for Shaggy's room, Daphne said, "You know, this whole bit is starting to remind me of that quote '_Nowhere am I so desperately needed as among a shipload of illogical beings._'"

"Spoken by Mr. Spock in the _Star Trek _episode _I, Mudd_, aired November 3rd of last year on NBC." Shaggy said as he turned towards Daphne.

Daphne raised her eyebrows, her lips forming into a small smile, as she said, "You certainly know your television."

"As you've said, 'I wasn't born yesterday'." Shaggy smiled back.

* * *

A short while later, Pistol was at his frequent hang out in the alleyway as usual, during which a pair of ladies walked by him.

He tried to woo the two ladies, though both of them wanted nothing to do with him as they continued walking.

"Where ya goin', ladies?" He asked teasingly.

"Beat it, punk!" The first lady said dismissively.

"We're going to work!" The second one added.

"Well, I've got work for you, baby." Pistol stick his tongue out, unaware that a man armed with a baseball bat was approaching him at the moment. "Come back!"

Before Pistol knew it, he suddenly felt something smashing into the back of his head, which sent him downwards towards the ground.

Rubbing the back of his head, Pistol looked up and recognized two figures. "Rogers?"

"You are going to tell me where the h*ll my daughter is." Sam said to him sternly.

"If you continue to play games and don't tell us where her location is at, there's gonna be trouble that goes further than one of us needing a cup of coffee." Chan added as he gripped the baseball bat.

With a grin on his face, Pistol asked, "What the f**k's this? The old 'good cop, bad cop' routine?"

"C'mon Pistol, I get it now." Chan smirked as he looked at him like he's looking at a floating piece trash. "This is Coolsville, and now I've figured that this town does things differently, so as such, this routine we're practicing isn't exactly what you think it is."

Before Pistol knew it, Sam whistled and Scooby lunged right at him without warning.

"Yah!" Pistol shrieked as he tried to get Scooby off him without success, during which Sam and Chan looked at him coldly.

"Come to think of it, I think this new routine should be 'bad cop, bad cop and an angry dog'." Sam remarked.

Chan nodded and snorted as Pistol tried to get away, only to be stopped when the detective swung the baseball bat at him.

As Sam and Chan continued with their impromptu interrogation, over at the nearby corner, Shaggy and Daphne were peaking around the corner with the former holding a wig.

The duo looked on before Pistol held out for less than a minute and started spilling all the beans out.

* * *

**Please read and review!**


	14. The showdown and the rescue

Chapter 14: The showdown and the rescue

Meanwhile, several blocks away from the alleyway, Fred and Velma had managed to sneak into Benson's apartment building and wasted no time finding the door to the ex-cop's apartment.

While Velma kept watch, Fred knelt down and started picking the pock.

"This place is pretty deserted." Velma remarked. "Not to mention sketchy."

"Yeah. Sure makes you wonder just how often Benson sticks around sketchy people." Fred agreed as he worked on the lock. "Quite surprised that the cops haven't gotten down to searching his apartment."

"You'd think that the police department would go through the due diligence and have any interest in closing a case that involves one of their own." Velma scoffed.

"Knowing this police department, I can't say I'm surprised they haven't even dropped by." Fred said.

Some silence followed as Fred continued to try to pick the lock, and Velma glanced at her wristwatch.

"You know, I would never have imagined that Shaggy would change so much since the last time I've seen him back when we were next door neighbours in Brooklyn." Velma remarked.

"Guy lost his mother." Fred offered. "Can't say I blame him for getting pretty wounded up after the fact."

"Yeah." Velma agreed. "Must've been tough having to deal with the loss at such a young age."

"Though there's one thing that still bothers me about Shag." Fred frowned. "What was it that led to him becoming addicted to painkillers? I've seen him popping a pill or two at school almost everyday."

"Don't know." Velma shrugged. "He might've involved in something serious that led to the severe pain that required painkillers."

"Like the car 'accident' that killed his mom?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Unless he was involved in another serious accident and survived, I'm sure the car crash that killed his mother was the trigger." Velma nodded.

Fred nodded thoughtfully as he continued to work the picks. "Yeah, though I don't see him walking away from an accident like that, considering the fact that his mother was killed instantly on impact."

"He must've underwent some sort of surgery after the accident." Velma interjected. "And somehow, something went wrong during the surgery, which left him with non-stop pain somewhere in his body, and so he was prescribed those painkillers to mitigate the pain."

Fred arched his eyebrows briefly before he nodded, though before he could offer a reply to the matter, the apartment door popped open.

"Ah, there we go." Fred exclaimed as he pushed the door open and walked in, with Velma following suit.

With the sun already setting, the apartment was dark without the lights, though neither of them motioned to turn the lights on.

Instead, both sleuths proceeded to turn on their flashlights and closed the door once they're inside the apartment.

"So if I were Benson, where would I hide an insurance policy?" Fred wondered out loud.

"Definitely in my bank safety deposit box." Velma replied. "Though considering that the bank safety deposit box is likely linked to the account he used for laundering money, that safety deposit box is gonna be the one of the places the feds be searching for."

"And being an ex-cop, he knows better than taking his chances with the banks." Fred nodded as they searched around. "Which then begs the question: Where would he store his insurance policy?"

Velma nodded in agreement before they proceeded to split up and search through the apartment.

While Fred searched through the desk drawers in Benson's bedroom, Velma searched around the living room.

There were photos depicting Benson with a woman, in addition to him in his Marine Corps service uniform.

As she hear Fred ravaging through the drawers, Velma was about to head into the kitchen when a chance shining her flashlight at the welcome mat prompted her to look closer when she noticed something.

Kneeling down at the welcome mat, Velma frowned as she saw what appeared to be dirt at the side of the mat that is pressed against the wall.

Pulling out her magnifying glass, Velma took the time to examine the dirt as something occurred to her.

VELMA'S BRIEF MIND EYE

In her brief mind eye, Velma imagined Benson returning home after he finished his deed of dumping the body of the original werewolf.

The first thing the policeman did when he got home was to wipe his work boots on the mat, during which scrapes of the brown-red dirt came loose and ended up pinned against the wall.

END VELMA'S BRIEF MIND EYE

"Find anything, Fred?" Velma asked.

"No." Fred replied as he emerged from the bedroom. "You?"

"I might have something here." Velma said as Fred walked towards her. "Take a look."

Fred knelt down beside the welcome mat and frowned when he saw the loose dirt pressed against the wall by the mat.

"Is that dirt?" The blonde asked as he pointed at the dirt.

"Yes." Velma nodded. "Dirt with rust, to be exact."

"Hence the red-ish colour." Fred nodded as well. "Which would mean that Benson was frequenting an abandoned place with rusted iron or steel gates."

At the mention of "an abandoned place", Velma realized something.

VELMA'S MIND EYE - Fifteen Days Ago

_October 9, 1968_

Standing under a nearby tree, Fred and Velma were watching themselves, Shaggy, Scooby and Daphne making the discovery of the footprint in the bush.

"That bush is where we've discovered the shoe print that day at the park." Velma said while watching herself taking the photo with her Polaroid.

"Yes." Fred nodded. "We were focused on the shoe type and size that we've forgotten to take into account of the direction and orientation of the footprint."

"Well, wasn't the footprint oriented in a direction that would be in the opposite direction from the crime scene in which the victim was grabbed from?" Velma asked.

Fred frowned briefly as he paused the flash vision and walked closer to the footprint with Velma following suit.

Kneeling down and taking a closer look of the footprint, the blonde said, "Well, the heels in the shoe print were deeper into the dirt than the toes."

Velma arched her eyebrows briefly. "What are you saying, Fred? The culprit was walking backwards to fool the police into thinking that he was getting away from the crime scene?"

"Exactly." Fred nodded as he turned towards Velma. "Which begs the question: Why would the werewolf be returning back to the scene of the crime?"

Velma looked again at the footprint they've discovered that day, then she frowned as she got up.

"I don't think the werewolf was returning to the scene of the crime, Freddie." She said as she got up and peered over the nearby hill.

"Huh?" Fred arched his eyebrows before he followed Velma towards the nearby hill.

After climbing to the top of the hill, Velma stopped for Fred to catch up, where the view they were at allowed them to see the houses and cabins near the park.

"You see those cabins over there, Freddie?" Velma asked.

"Uh-huh." Fred nodded. "The vic's house is over there, there's an abandoned cabin a few blocks away, and-"

Fred stopped himself when he realized something.

"That abandoned cabin is where Benson said that they've confronted the original werewolf back in '57, isn't it?" Fred asked.

Velma arched her eyebrows briefly before nodding, and immediately, the time frame of the flash vision shifted back to 1957 on the night of the confrontation.

The duo looked on as Benson and several officers raised their rifles and began opening fire when the creature inside tries to swing its claws at them.

Returning back to October 9th, 1968, the duo saw that the cabin has been abandoned since the confrontation in '57 and the yards are both overgrown with weed.

"Yes, and that abandoned cabin also has iron gates that have completely rusted." Velma nodded.

Quickly approaching the abandoned cabin, the duo picked up a sample of the soil from the front yard of the abandoned cabin and compared with the sample of dirt found at the edge of the welcome mat in Benson's apartment.

"Not to mention that the soil samples here at the abandoned cabin matches the dirt samples we've got here in Benson's apartment!" Fred added.

"Meaning that Benson was near the cabin recently, playing his part in this massive conspiracy that has turned on him now." Velma nodded.

END VELMA'S MIND EYE

"G***mnit!" Fred almost slammed his fist onto the floor in anger. "The werewolf's hideout was right in front of us the whole g***mn time!"

"Yes, though there's still the issue regarding Benson's insurance policy." Velma said. "You said you didn't find anything in Benson's room."

"That's right." Fred nodded. "I've also checked the cupboards, anywhere before trying the bedroom, and nothing."

"He was a cop, he's smart, which means he's gotta have a perfect hiding place for the insurance policy." Velma said.

Fred murmured as he looked around, during which he shined his flashlight around before he stopped and frowned.

"Hmmm." Fred remarked as he walked towards one particular painting.

Velma raised an eyebrow as Fred approached the painting in question and leaned forward to take a closer look, during which he started adjusting the position of the painting when he noticed that it was tilted.

In the course of adjusting the painting's position, Fred was examining the surrounding wall, including the wall area behind the neighbouring paintings, before stopping.

"Say, the wall area behind this painting is considerably lighter than the wall areas behind the other paintings." Fred remarked.

"So?" Velma asked.

Without a word, Fred took down the painting, revealing a safe behind it.

"Well, what do you know." Velma remarked, answering her own question. "Do you think that the insurance policy documents are in this safe?"

Eying the combination lock, Fred replied, "There's only one way to find out, Velms."

* * *

Over in a dark room somewhere, Maggie was tied up to a wooden chair with her hands taped together by duct tape.

She was stirring as the effects from the chloroform used for drugging her began to wear off, then she began to open her eyes drowsily.

Maggie's memory was still a complete blank as she opened her eyes, and as she surveyed her surroundings, she tried to think how she came to be in the position she's in.

"Hello?" Maggie called out as she looked around.

Her call was met with silence in the dark room, during which Maggie noticed the fact that she was tied to the chair with her hands taped together.

"Hello, anybody?" Maggie called out. "Someone!"

As she struggled against the bonds, Maggie tried to think what was the last thing she remembered before she woke up and found herself in the dark room.

She remembered finishing looking after the Baywosenthal child earlier and was on her way home through the usual shortcut she takes whenever she finished babysitting everyday, and along the way, she stopped by to help an old lady who had dropped a bag of groceries.

What followed remained fuzzy in her mind, though as she surveyed her surroundings, it soon dawned on her that she must've been drugged while helping the old lady.

Maybe the old lady is onto her kidnapping, maybe she's not, but one thing's for certain.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she can see just how rundown the place is, and she can see traces of blood around.

"Help!" She screamed. "Someone get me out of here!"

She struggled to get herself free, but instead, her constant rocking of the wooden chair caused a leg to crack, leading her and the chair to fall over.

Grunting from the pain, Maggie noticed the sharp edge of the broken chair leg and eyed the bonds that had tied her to the chair, which had loosened.

Her hands were still taped together, and just as Maggie was thinking of something to do, the room door opened.

Instinctively, she reached for the chair leg as the door opened, revealing the half-man, half wolf figure.

"Good to see you again, Jamie." The werewolf said, not noticing his captive managing to reach the broken chair leg.

* * *

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

We wasted no time arriving at the cabin at the outskirts of the Fred Quimby Park, and Scoob, Daphne and I followed Dad and Detective Chan in getting off the car and approached the abandoned cabin.

"Jeepers, this cabin sure looks haunted at dawn." Daphne remarked.

"You don't say, Daph." I agreed. "Especially since this cabin is where Benson says the shootout with the original werewolf occurred at."

"Well, since that shootout, the place has been abandoned." Chan interjected. "Based on what Pistol told us, the city had meant to get around to tearing the place down, but complications in the property ownership around here resulted in the cabin still standing today."

"And based on what that dirtbag told us, powerful interests that controls this town has had this wolf man as a muscle, supposedly to work security and run errands." Dad added.

"Speaking of which, I still think we should call for backup, Lieutenant." Chan advised.

"What, and give them the chance to tip off the culprit behind this whole mess, who can then tip off the killer, who may I remind you is holding my daug-" Dad scoffed as he turned towards Chan.

"Yeah, yeah." Chan quickly held his hand up. "I get it, Lieutenant."

Dad stared at Detective Chan briefly before he headed straight into the cabin in a huff. "Remind me to push Deputy Chief Gosnell in speeding up the processing of your paperwork, Chan, so this sort of thing doesn't happen again."

Chan only nodded as we followed Dad into the cabin, during which Dad kicked the front door open and drew his gun out.

As we quietly followed Dad and Chan and turned on our flashlights, the detective whispered, "Stay close with us, this place is dangerous."

"No need to remind us." I replied as we looked around.

As we continued to follow Chan and Dad down the main hallway, Daph and I stopped when we stopped by what appeared to be a map.

It was Gothic rendition of a map of Coolsville, circa at the turn of the century by the looks of things on this old map.

"Jeepers, this map looks...crazy." Daphne remarked at the look of things.

"Like, it sure seems like the last occupant of this cabin was into all things Gothic." I nodded. "Pretty sure this last occupant was also the one who built this house."

"Willing to bet that the cabin layout is exactly the same as the last occupants mindset?" Daphne asked.

I swallowed before I turned around, and oh, crap. Apparently, we've stopped for a bit too long and in the process, Dad, Chan and Scoob continued on down the hallway without me and Daph.

"Dad?" I called out. "Detective Chan? Scoob?"

There was no response from either of them, and I turned towards Daphne.

"Jeepers!" Daphne said. "I think we've lost them!"

"I think that's gonna be the least of our worries, Daph." I said as I looked around. "Assuming that the werewolf knows this place well, I'm afraid we're gonna be sitting ducks if we continue to stand around and do nothing."

"No kidding." Daphne nodded before she grabbed my hand and tugged me along. "Come on!"

I was about to ask Daphne where we were heading when we approached a door, and the redhead gently knocked on it.

"Mr. Rogers?" Daphne asked as she knocked on the door, which then creaked open.

Sharing glances with Daph, I swallowed before we entered the room behind the door.

It was a large bedroom with a large bed, some abandoned clothes and several toys littered around, and the wooden floorboards creaked as we stepped in.

"Like, someone's sure one messy housekeeper." I remarked as we surveyed our surroundings.

Daphne didn't respond as she looked around, during which her flashlight shined onto a set of play blocks, accompanied by a group of creepy-looking dolls.

Come to think of it, those dolls, on account of the old age and their disused state, sure looked possessed.

As I followed Daphne's lead, I saw her reading the message the play blocks had assembled.

It read, "You'll all go crazy."

"Creepy." Daphne remarked.

Just then, I got the feeling that someone was behind us and I instinctively grabbed a block and threw it towards whatever or whoever was behind us.

Turned out that I just shattered a nearby mirror. Must be our reflections in the mirror that gave me that spooky feeling.

"This place can definitely drive someone bananas." I remarked.

"Yeah." Daphne agreed before she made her way towards the door. "Let's try to find your sister and the others and get out of here!"

* * *

**(Third Person)**

Back in the dark room, Maggie had her eyes on her captor as she managed to grab her makeshift weapon.

"Stay away from me!" Maggie shouted.

Outside, Sam, Chan and Scooby, who were on the second floor of the cabin, and Shaggy and Daphne, who were in that large bedroom, heard the scream.

"Oh no..." Daphne said.

"Margaret?" Sam asked as his daughter managed to stab the Werewolf in the leg.

"Maggie!" Shaggy shouted as he and Daphne raced off to find the room she was being held captive in.

It was then that Sam, Chan and Scooby heard someone running towards them, and the trio paused before the former two prepared their weapons as the source of the running became closer.

Swiftly turning around, Sam and Chan both raised their weapons.

"Freeze!" Sam barked as Chan also turned on his flashlight.

Almost immediately, the source of the running stopped in their tracks before a familiar voice said, "Relax, Lieutenant Rogers. It's just us."

Through Chan's flashlight, both Sam and Chan could see Fred and Velma standing behind them with the blonde holding his hands up.

"Mr. Jones?" Sam almost immediately relaxed. "Don't you know it's not a good idea to sneak up to us like this?"

"Not to mention we could've discharged our weapons if it weren't for your timely identification of yourselves." Chan added.

"Sorry, Lieutenant." Fred shrugged apologetically. "But we have something that you both would find interesting about the werewolf case."

"Well, whatever it is, you'll have to save it for later." Sam said. "Because we're searching for someone who's being held in this cabin. She was screaming a minute ago, but we've lost the source."

Just then, they heard Maggie shouting, "No!" as the werewolf prepares to use its claws on her.

"It's just going to be between you and me, Jamie." The Werewolf said as he prepares his claws.

Scooby's ears perked up, and he quickly leaned forward towards a section of the nearby wall and listened in.

While Sam and Chan looked on, Fred and Velma promptly followed Scooby's lead and listened in, then the blonde stepped back and swung his arms back, bracing himself.

"What are you doing?" Chan asked as Sam arched his eyebrows.

Just as the Werewolf was about to slash its claws on Maggie, Fred suddenly charged through the room wall, breaking it in the process, and crashed the scene.

Hearing the crash elsewhere, Shaggy said, "Like, do you hear that crash?"

Daphne nodded. "It's coming from down the hallway! Let's go!"

In the dark room, Fred huffed as the werewolf turned towards him and Velma, still grabbing Maggie by the collar of her shirt.

Both of them could see the blood oozing from the werewolf's left leg, right at where Maggie stabbed him with the broken chair leg.

"This is a private moment!" The werewolf hissed at them. "You're not invited!"

Letting go of Maggie, the creature then charged towards Velma and Fred.

Bracing himself, Fred crouched as he prepared to tackle the werewolf.

"Careful, Freddie." Velma warned Fred as she ducked out of the way. "You know the reports about the werewolf. He's not someone to mess with."

Fred nodded as he charged towards the werewolf in a bid tackle him, but the beast managed to move out of the way, causing the blonde to crash into a nearby wall.

Then, before Fred could recover, the werewolf managed to tackle the blonde.

Locked in a struggle against the werewolf, Fred did everything he could to try to lift him, though the werewolf refused to budge.

Before Fred could react, the werewolf abruptly lifted him up and threw him towards the nearby table.

As that was happening, Sam and Chan managed to charge into the secret room and freed Maggie.

"Maggie!" Sam exclaimed in relief.

"Dad!" Maggie replied as they shared a close embrace.

At that moment, the werewolf turned his attention towards them as he asked, "Jamie?"

"Freeze!" Chan shouted as he aimed his weapon towards the werewolf. "Don't move, you freak!"

Ignoring the warning, the werewolf charged towards him and Chan fired a shot, shooting him right in the shoulder.

The bullets seemed to have no affect on the werewolf as he managed to grab Chan by the wrist and twisted it, causing him to drop his weapon in pain.

Taking the opportunity, Fred quickly rushed into the fray and locked his arm around the monster's neck.

"Go!" Fred shouted towards Sam, Maggie and Detective Chan as he tried the choke hold on the werewolf. "Get your daughter out of here!"

Sam immediately complied without question while Velma and Scooby quickly joined in in Fred's attempt to to neutralize the werewolf.

"I swear to G**...this thing isn't...human at all!" Fred gritted his teeth.

The struggle between Fred and the werewolf soon led to them crashing through the wall and fall down to the ground floor, where they landed right in front of Shaggy and Daphne as they rushed over.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy exclaimed.

"Fred!" Daphne shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Stopping this wild beast!" Fred replied as he struggled with the werewolf.

"Where's Maggie?" Shaggy asked.

"She's safe with your father, Shag." Velma replied as she rushed to the scene. "But we've gotta do something before Fred gets himself killed!"

Looking around, Shaggy found a frying pan and instinctively went to grab it.

"Like, heads up, Fred!" He shouted as he swung the frying pan right at the werewolf.

Much to everyone's horror, no matter how many times Shaggy swung the frying pan right on the werewolf's head, the creature simply wouldn't give up.

"Are you freakin' kidding me?" Shaggy exclaimed. "This beast wouldn't stop!"

"We can see that, Shag!" Velma shouted.

Fed up by the struggling and the whacking, the were suddenly shoved Shaggy aside, causing him to crash into a nearby wall while dropping the frying pan in the process.

As that happened, the werewolf managed to grab ahold of Fred's ascot and pulled the blonde closer to him.

"What's this you're wearing, boy?" The werewolf taunted as it prepares to use his claws on him. "A scarf?"

"It's...an...ascot!" Fred gritted, and instinctively, Velma untied his ascot and quickly wrapped it around the werewolf's neck tight.

"Argh!" The werewolf tried to struggle free, but Velma simply tightened the cloth around its neck, allowing Fred to escape.

As Daphne rushed over to support Shaggy, Scooby raced over to grab the frying pan with its mouth and raced towards Fred.

"Thanks, Scooby." Fred said as he grabbed the frying pan from Scooby.

"Hurry, Freddie!" Velma strained as the werewolf tried to break free from the chokehold she was subjecting it to.

Without missing a beat, Fred used the frying pan to hit the werewolf right in the nose multiple times, refusing to stop until the werewolf gradually stopped struggling.

Letting go of the werewolf, everyone looked on as the werewolf collapsed to the floor with a loud "Thooom!", no longer moving a muscle.

Catching their breaths, Velma turned to Fred as she asked, "Is...this it?"

"I hope so." Fred replied as they took another look at the beast, bracing themselves for a comeback by the monster.

To their relief, the werewolf laid on the floor, not moving a muscle.

"Scooby Doo, you did it!" Velma smiled. "You've stopped the werewolf!"

"Yeah!" Fred agreed. "Way to go, Scooby Doo!"

Scooby only groaned affectionately as Fred and Velma proceeded to rub his head, during which Shaggy and Daphne joined them.

"Wow." Daphne remarked as they stared at the unmoving slump of mass in front of them. "We really owe it to Scooby Doo to save the day at last."

"Indeed we do, Daph." Shaggy agreed as they joined in in rubbing Scooby's head.

As that was happening, Velma sniffed and then asked, "Say, is it just me, or does this place smell...like death?"

"It's not just you, Velma." Fred agreed after taking a sniff. "This place definitely reeks of death."

At that remark, Scooby's ears suddenly perked up before he break away and sniffed the floor.

Everyone else looked on as Scooby continued sniffing at the floor, eventually reaching a closed door under the stairs before stopping and whining.

Shaggy was the first to walk over and he reached down to pet the Great Dane and asked, "Hey Scoob, what's the matter? You find something?"

Scooby nodded as he continued to scratch on the door, and Fred and the girls soon joined in.

"Must be something behind the door." Fred said.

Shaggy nodded before he took a deep breath and reached over to open the door.

The minute he opened the door, the horrendous smell of death became more pronounced, forcing everyone to wince and cover their noses.

"Jeepers, this place could sure use a good cleaning up." Daphne exclaimed as she covered her nose.

Behind the door was a set of stairs heading downstairs towards the cabin's basement, and the gang turned on their flashlights and shined downwards.

* * *

Outside the cabin, Sam was busy comforting Maggie at the car while Chan radioed back to headquarters regarding the need for a pickup at the cabin.

For a while, there was some silence between father and daughter, except for Chan and the radio voice from the inside of the car.

Maggie looked at her father, and she exhaled.

Looking back at the cabin, Maggie was wondering what fate awaits the long-abandoned cabin, especially since this was where she was held captive by the werewolf.

It was then that Sam sighed, and Maggie turned towards him.

Finally looking at his daughter in the eye, Sam sighed again before he said, "I'm so sorry, Margaret."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Dad." Maggie replied. "You managed to find me alive and well, that's all that matters."

"No, I mean about everything." Sam said. "Since your mother died, I've been trying my best to bring you and Norville up, though everything that we've went through in the past few days demonstrates-"

"Stop it, Dad." Maggie placed her finger at her father's mouth. "There's nothing for you to apologize for, you were trying to protect us, that's all."

Sam sighed again, then he smiled sadly. "When did you become so nice?"

"Let's just say that I still have a thing or two from Mom." Maggie responded.

Sam nodded thoughtfully, then Maggie asked, "How did you guys find me anyways?"

As that was happening, a voice was heard pounding the trunk from the inside and shouting, "Let me outta here!"

Sam snorted and nodded towards the trunk, and Maggie nodded thoughtfully as the voice continued, "I said I was **sorry**!"

It was then that Chan stepped out of the car and said, "Sir, I just spoke to Claphammer, he and Neville are on their way with the wagon as we speak."

Sam nodded, though before he could say something, their idle conversation was interrupted by several loud shrieks from the cabin.

Suddenly alert, Sam and Chan stood up and raced towards the cabin with Maggie following.

When the trio entered, they saw the gang hunched at the door leading to the basement, and they promptly rushed over.

"What's going on here?" Sam asked as he, Chan and Maggie joined the gang, though the trio soon had a sense of something being very wrong when they saw the horrified looks on each of the gang's faces.

Without missing a beat, the lieutenant joined them in looking down towards the basement, and what he saw immediately made his blood run cold.

Chan followed his gaze, and he almost dropped his flashlight in shock.

"What happened?" Maggie asked as she attempted to join in, only for Daphne to cover her eyes.

For a while, the scene was unusually still as everyone, except for Maggie, tried to process what they were seeing in the basement.

Finally, Sam broke the silence as he muttered, "Blessed Mother of J**us."

Echoing Sam's sentiment, Chan offered, "I think...I'm gonna head back to the car and...tell Claphammer to contact the medical examiners, sir."

Sam only nodded as he continued looking down towards the basement, and Chan immediately broke off, visibly disturbed by what he and the group had just saw.

* * *

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	15. The aftermath and it hits the fan

Chapter 15: The aftermath and it hits the fan

By the time the medical examiners had begun the process of recovering the bodies from the basement of the cabin, the area had became both a media and law enforcement encampment.

The werewolf was already handcuffed and completely muzzled and restrained to a dolly as it was taken into a van destined for the Helen Karmah Asylum for the Criminally Insane, following preliminary identification of the creature as an escapee from the asylum.

Sam had his hands in his pockets as he oversaw several officers in the process of bringing up more of the bodies while Chan, Claphammer and Neville directed efforts, and his attention turned towards the gang.

The gang were all visibly shaken up by what they've seen in the basement, and the lieutenant could see that Fred felt like he had his insides ripped out.

He couldn't blame them for their reactions, and the officers assigned to crowd control duty were sure lucky that they didn't have to witness the gruesome scene at the basement.

As the medical examiners began the process of loading the recovered bodies onto the van, to be transported to the morgue for proper identification, Sam could tell that his men were bracing themselves for the next of kin notifications.

Regardless of how long they've been on the job for, the next of kin notifications would always be the worst aspect of homicide work.

Not even witnessing gruesome sights could, at times, overtake the notifications portion of the job, especially when that portion is the part where the personal aspects of the case comes into play.

Deciding to take a break from his thoughts, the lieutenant stood up from his car trunk and walked over to the trio.

As he walked towards the trio, he could see several of the officers taking part in the body removal duties were also visibly shaken.

It didn't help the fact that many of the officers were recent war veterans, and you'd think everything they've seen in combat would've been enough to prepare for what was in the basement of death.

With a sigh, Sam approached his three investigators, who promptly finished whatever they were discussing about and turned towards him.

"So how are we on the bodies?" Sam asked.

"We've just finished removing the last of the bodies, Lieutenant." Neville reported. "Officers are combing through the basement to make sure there's no one else left behind down there as we speak."

Sam nodded. "How many were down there?"

"Hard to say, sir." Claphammer replied. "Many of the vics were slashed and torn apart, and the fact that there's a colony of flies inhabiting the basement means that several of them have been here for at least weeks, if not, months. For all we know, we could be dealing with at least 20 of 'em down there."

Sam didn't hide the disgust on his face as he replied, "Dear G**..."

"Indeed, sir." Claphammer agreed. "You and Charlie were lucky to have been able to rescue your daughter from that h*llhole in the nick of time. If you were a minute late-"

Sam immediately held his hand up. "Say no more."

Claphammer nodded as the lieutenant turned towards the front door to the cabin, during which several more officers emerged and the uniformed sergeant approached them.

"All clear, sir." The sergeant reported.

"No more human remains?" Sam asked.

"That's right, sir." The sergeant nodded.

"Alright." Sam sighed as he turned towards the officers that had finished up, then he turned back to the sergeant and said, "In that case, you can cut most of the crew loose. Pretty sure most of them has seen enough for the night."

"I'm sure they've all seen enough for the night, sir." The sergeant agreed.

As the sergeant proceeded to leave, Sam stopped him as he added, "My men and I would resume the investigative work first thing tomorrow morning, Sergeant, so be sure that the cabin is completely taped off and that you keep at least three men posted here to secure the scene for the night."

"Right away, sir." The sergeant nodded.

In that same time, Maggie was starting to get a very good idea on what exactly was in the basement, judging from the dozens of filled body bags emerged from the cabin and the horror-stricken looks on each of the gang's faces, especially that of her brothers.

For a while, neither of them said a word, though Maggie was staring mostly at Daphne during the tense silence.

Eventually, Maggie broke the silence as she said, "Well...I suppose you were right to cover my eyes...like that, Daphne."

Daphne turned towards her and sighed. "Maybe, though there's no telling just how dangerously close you were to..."

The redhead nodded towards the medical examiner's van as she continued, "...getting a one-way trip to the morgue with those they've found in the basement."

"No need to remind us all about that, Daph." Fred interjected. "We're just lucky that we all got there when we did."

Everyone else nodded in agreement, during which Sam walked towards them.

"You kids all right?" Sam asked in concern.

"Well, besides the close-call about Maggie and our tangling with a dangerous serial killer, we're all okay, I think, Lieutenant Rogers." Fred turned towards the lieutenant before nodding at the three investigators and added, "I suppose you're cutting your men loose for the night after what we've all seen in that basement?"

"Yeah, I don't suppose any of us are going to get any sleep tonight after what we saw in that h*llhole." Sam nodded in agreement. "But I digress, prior to the takedown, you said that you have something that I would like to know."

"Indeed we do, sir." Fred said as he and Velma produced the file they managed to acquire from the safe at Benson's apartment. "This was Benson's insurance policy, which would explain why he decided to spill the beans out after doing all the dirty work on behalf of the mastermind behind this whole mess."

Sam frowned as Fred handed him the file, and he asked, "I suppose there's a long story regarding how you managed to get the file, isn't it?"

Fred and Velma both winced, and the former replied sheepishly, "I don't think you would want to know, Lieutenant."

Sam merely grunted in reply as he opened the file and scanned its contents, then he paused as he narrowed his eyes further before looking up.

"What do you know, this is definitely something that, should it comes to light, would result in a massive s**tstorm that will turn this city upside down." The lieutenant said. "Which is also why I suggest you all keep this under your hats."

"If you may, don't you think we should let Assistant District Attorney Jones know about all of this, considering the fact that this insurance policy document provides detailed accounts of the allegations faced by Benson's true employer, which I'm sure you are aware that the feds are looking into right now." Velma pointed out.

Sam arched his eyebrows briefly, then he looked down at the insurance policy before he nodded.

"Very well, then." Sam said.

* * *

A short while later, over at the Office of the District Attorney of Crystal Cove County, Assistant DA Skip Jones was twirling a pencil as he scanned a file on his desk when someone knocked on his office door.

Without looking up from his desk, the ADA called, "Come in."

The door opened, and the ADA looked up and arched his eyebrows when he saw Sam, Chan, Claphammer, Neville and the gang at the other side of the door.

"Ah, Lieutenant Rogers." Skip greeted as he stood up from his seat. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna find your confidence back."

"Good evening to you too, Lieutenant." Sam greeted back, referring Skip to his wartime rank from his time in the Navy JAG, as he stepped into the ADA's office. "And yeah, it took some convincing and lessons learned to-"

Sam stopped himself when he saw that the ADA wasn't alone in his office, which occurred as the three men accompanying the ADA turned towards them.

And much to Sam's surprise, one of the three men was none other than George Robert Nedley Blake.

Daphne was likewise surprised when she saw her father in the ADA's office, and she paused. "Dad?"

"Daphne, dear." George replied as his eyes settled onto Sam, Shaggy and Maggie.

Seeing the other two men accompanying the ADA, Sam kept his eyes on George as he said, "I hope I'm not interrupting, ADA Jones."

"Ah, no worries, Rogers." Skip replied before he motioned the two men accompanying him to step forward. "In fact, you're just in time."

"In time for what?" Sam arched his eyebrows. "What's going on?"

"Rogers, allow me to introduce Special Agents Charlie Gorgan and his partner Jordan Shmidlap of the FBI." Skip explained as he gestured towards the two agents. "These two agents are the lead agents looking into the Roger Stevens case that brought down a judge and several more others in the DA's office, a case which I'm sure you've gathered had deeper implications when the werewolf case enters the picture."

**(Note: Special Agent Charlie Gorgan is a retconned version of Gnarly Charlie from the APNSD episode _Scooby Dude_, where like the source material, he's depicted as an agent of the FBI.**

**Likewise, Special Agent Jordan Scmidlap is a retconned version of Agent Scmidlap from the 2014 DTV film _Frankencreepy._)**

Sam arched his eyebrows briefly before Gorgan stepped forward and extended his hand.

"Colonel, it's been a while." Gorgan said.

Everyone else all arched their eyebrows as Sam nodded and shook Gorgan's hand. "Indeed it has been, Special Agent. I see you've made the transfer to the bureau after our last assignment together."

In surprise, Skip asked, "You guys know each other?"

Both Sam and Gorgan nodded as the former explained, "I was briefly seconded to ONI and served with Gorgan before he joined the bureau."

"Understood." Skip nodded. "Anyways, moving forward, for weeks, almost months, the bureau has been keeping my office in the loop regarding developments to their investigations into Dixon Chemicals, though considering the fact that witnesses kept on disappearing, their efforts had failed to yield results."

"Until Mr. Blake here made the decision to finally blow the whistle." Shmidlap said as he nodded towards George.

"Dad?" Daphne asked as she rushed over to her father. "What prompted you to do so?"

George sighed. "I knew that you were too stubborn to put a stop to this little thing you've been doing since you've starting hanging out with them lot, not that I should be surprised, since we both know where you got that from."

Sam and the others all arched their eyebrows as George continued, "So after our little discussion yesterday, when I saw that you've decided to pay that Rogers boy a visit, especially after reading the note you've left in your room, I knew that it was a matter of time before I had to do the right thing and blow the whistle, even if this could potentially mean that you, your sisters or even your mother paying the price ultimately."

As Daphne stared at her father speechlessly, Skip continued, "Anyways, Mr. Blake eventually decided to come forward with evidence that would detail his suspicions on what his former business partner, State Senator Daggett, and many officials at City Hall were all up to."

"Which included schemes of embezzlement, illegal sales of chemical weapons to the Viet Cong, money laundering, corruption and the most heinous of all, the employment of a serial killer to carry out their dirty work as enforcement muscle." Gorgan explained.

"Hence the trail of disappeared witnesses." Fred spoke up.

Skip pointed at his son approvingly and said, "Exactly."

Sam exhaled, then he said, "Well, then you gentlemen would be pleased to know that in the last couple of hours, the serial killer was apprehended and the remains of his previous victims were recovered."

"Oh, is that right?" Shmidlap raised an eyebrow.

Claphammer nodded. "Let's just say that we arrived at the nick of time to rescue the killer's next victim."

Skip whistled lowly, and Gorgan said, "Well, that sure changes things."

"Change, like how?" Velma asked.

"It now allows us to dig deeper into the activities of killer's employers without them having the means to keep us occupied with more and more of these senseless kidnappings and killings." Shimdlap explained.

"Which should allow us to the paint the picture on just how long this racket has been going on and how deep the corruption goes." Sam interjected.

"Exactly." Gorgan nodded. "Our main issue would be pinning the murders to the conspirators, given the lack of evidence that would support the accusations there is against the conspirators for hiring the serial killer to do the dirty work of enforcement muscle."

"Weren't the accounting numbers I've provided enough to secure a conviction of conspiracy to commit corruption?" George frowned.

"No, we need more than that." Shimdlap shook his head. "Like actual figures that would be solid evidence that the embezzled funds were used for the hiring of that serial killer as enforcement muscle."

"Unless that serial killer has a paystub, there's no way your accounting numbers would be enough to secure that conviction against the conspirators." Gorgan added.

The two agents then turned towards Sam, who then took out the file Fred had handed him and said, "Then, I believe I may have just the thing."

As Gorgan and Shimdlap arched their eyebrows, Sam added, "This here is an insurance policy of former Coolsville PD Detective Steven Benson who worked security for Mayor Francis Jones, and he has quite the long list of allegations facing him regarding the dirty work he did for the mayor before he decided to spill things all out about the conspiracy."

Gorgan narrowed his eyes as he took the file from Sam and opened it. "You don't say, Rogers."

* * *

Over at Coolsville City Hall, Mayor Francis Jones, State Senator Barty Daggett and Chief of Police Lou Strickland were in the process of scouring through the former's office for files.

"You sure that your guys are gonna be more than enough to hold off whatever s**tstorm that's heading our way, Francis?" Daggett asked.

"They have to be." Jones growled. "After losing the Werewolf, it's only a matter of time before s**t hits the fan and our plans comes to light."

"Should we all end up with prison sentences, it's gonna be your d*mn fault, Strickland." Daggett snarled as he turned towards the police chief. "If you had done your job properly in disciplining that squirt-"

"Me?!" Strickland retorted. "That Rogers kid has nothing! Wasn't the 'accident' that killed his wife more than enough to teach him?"

"I don't know?!" Daggett raised his arms up in frustration. "Whatever the h*ll happened out there, it must've triggered him into teaming up with Jones and leaping into this."

"Didn't you instruct the Werewolf to grab his daughter next as a reminder?" Jones asked.

"Yeah, and f**king figured that the Werewolf should've been finished with her by then." Daggett replied.

"Well, what the h*ll happened that lead to us scrambling right now?" Jones grumbled.

"I'll tell you all what the h*ll happened that lead to this, Mister Mayor." A voice suddenly said through the opened door, and the trio immediately turned around.

Standing at the doorway were Lieutenant Sam Rogers, Assistant District Attorney Skip Jones and the gang.

Certain that they've got the trio's attention, Sam took a step forward into the mayor's office.

"Your hired muscle picked the wrong hornet's nest to stir up." Sam stated. "Isn't that why you all are in a scramble right now?"

Immediately, Strickland stepped towards Sam and said, "Oh, whatever it is that we're doing here is none of your concern, Lieutenant, and besides, shouldn't you be-"

"Finishing up the paper work, is that what you're suggesting?" Sam snorted as he cut in. "Perhaps you've been sitting on your a** for so long up there that you've forgotten what proper police work is like."

"Now who's the one that has forgotten what proper police work is like?" Strickland retorted as he glared right at Sam.

"What makes you think that not interrupting a superior officer in the middle of a sentence is considered proper police work, especially when said superior officer is about to be indicted on a long list of serious charges?" Sam challenged, not intimidated one bit by Strickland's glare.

"You watch it, Lieutenant." Strickland warned. "If you continue to let your lack of discipline become a habit and should said habit spread to-"

"In other words, you don't like it when I refuse to kiss your a**. Is that right, Chief?" Sam cut in again as he made the last word sound like it was synonymous with _jacka**. _"Well, guess what? After all these years, I've decided that I've had enough of being complicit in letting the likes of you getting away with breaking the law we've all sworn to uphold."

Without missing a beat, Sam then added, "If you want to have me disciplined for insubordination, by all means, go ahead. Whatever the consequences that I face is gonna be a slap in the wrist, compared to the consequences you and your pals are facing for your illegal activities."

Before Strickland could retort, Daggett stepped forward.

"Is this about your allegations about the 'car accident' that killed your wife, Lieutenant Rogers?" Daggett demanded. "Because all you've got are merely speculations, and nothing you've raised is gonna change the fact that your wife's death was an accident."

"I'm not asking, State Senator." Sam responded. "And even if I were to be asking you, point blank, on your role in arranging that phony accident, that isn't exactly the reason why we're here."

"Lieutenant Rogers is right." Skip agreed as he stepped forward. "My office has reason to believe that you three were the main masterminds behind a conspiracy to defraud investors out of their investments in a scam venture to get restricted weapons sold to our enemies, not to mention the employment of a convicted serial killer in your payroll as an enforcement muscle used for silencing those trying to blow the whistle."

"Your office?" Jones scoffed and laughed humourlessly. "You're not even the District Attorney, Jones, and what makes you think that District Attorney Knight would okay those charges, considering the fact that you're running against him?"

"Okay, let me get a few things straight, Mister Mayor." Skip responded. "First off, Knight is currently incapacitated as a result of some developments stemming from a business matter."

Then, without missing a beat, the ADA continued, "And second of all, even if I were to win this race and become DA, who said that I was gonna be the one filing the charges against you all?"

At that last question, the trio blinked, just in time for the gang to move out of the way.

Before the trio knew it, a squad of FBI agents marched their way into the mayor's office.

Immediately, Strickland turned towards Sam as he asked, "What the h*ll did you do, Lieutenant?"

"Me?" Sam asked. "I didn't need to do **anything**, not when the bureau managed to get Knight talking and completed the search at each of your places and find the evidence they need to have you three indicted for federal charges of conspiracy to commit fraud, corruption, murder and treason."

"Knight?" Daggett demanded. "That f**ker knew nothing about our operations. How-?"

"I believe I can explain everything, Barty." Another voice called out, and everyone turned just as George Blake walked into the office, accompanied by Gorgan and Shmidlap.

Immediately, Daggett narrowed his eyes. "I should've known that you would snitch on us, Blake."

"Yeah, that I would." George snorted as he stepped forward. "After everything I've did for _**our** _company and listening to your advice, is this how you repay me? You using my resources to enrich yourself and your fellow fat cats in your schemes while I continue to work my a** off? And for what?"

"Bite your tongue, Blake." Daggett scoffed. "You do realize who I am, right?"

"Maybe I do, but not for long." George replied.

"What the h*ll are you talking about?" Daggett narrowed his eyes.

"Well, word has it that your party's State Senate caucus leader is moving to file a motion to have you censured, which in turn would lead to you getting disqualified in your race for the House on Capitol Hill." George replied.

Almost immediately, Dagget exploded.

"What the h*ll happened to you, Blake?" Daggett asked. "I thought you were above every vicious filth spread about me!"

"Oh, I don't know." George shrugged casually. "Perhaps my daughter Daphne happened, guess that's what to be expected when you've raised your children to be abide by a high sense of ethics and morality."

"You g***mn son of a b*tch." Daggett hissed. "I should've had the Werewolf-"

"Shut your pie hole, Daggett." Strickland slapped the state senator. "Don't you realize that we're as good as dead if you talk like that?"

"Does it really matter, Strickland?" Daggett retorted. "Thanks to Blake's selfish decision to throw me under the bus as he always does, we're already dead, talk or not talk."

"Alright, I think I've heard enough." Gorgan said as the agents proceeded to handcuff the trio. "Louis Strickland, Francis Jones and Bartemius Daggett, you all are under arrest for conspiracy to commit fraud, corruption, murder and treason."

"You all have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, everything you said would be used against you all in the court of law." Shmidlap added. "Is that understood?"

The now-handcuffed trio didn't say a word, and the agents wordlessly proceeded to escort them out of the mayor's office.

As Daggett was escorted out, he was stopped in front of Daphne, who looked up at him.

"Daphne." The state senator sputtered like a parent being taken away by secret police as a result of the child reporting them for being anti-regime.

Daphne only exhaled, and she looked on as the state senator was brought before her father.

"This isn't over, Blake." Daggett hissed. "I've got friends out there."

"As do I, Daggett." George replied evenly. "Much better friends, in fact."

Then, as Daggett was escorted out of the office, George turned towards Daphne and sighed while she, Shaggy, Maggie and Sam looked on.

* * *

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	16. Epilogue and an airport pickup

**Author's Note: The copyright of the lyrics in _italics _belong to Sonny and Cher, who made their guest appearance in _The New Scooby-Doo Movies _Season One episode _The Secret of Shark Island_, which is one of my most favourite episodes of the series.**

* * *

Chapter 16: Epilogue and an airport pickup

_October 25, 1968_

While the newspapers and local radio news channels became buzzed by news of the recent indictments of Mayor Francis Jones, State Senator Barty Daggett, District Attorney Dayton Knight and Chief of Police Lou Strickland on a staggering list of federal charges, much of the city remains as business as usual.

Well, business as usual would be a rather stretched way to describe matters at both City Hall and Coolsville Central, considering the arrest of the mayor and the chief of police by federal agents.

From what Sam gathered as he arrived at work that morning with a package, the police department has already had Deputy Chief Rupert Gosnell, the chief of personnel, lined up to replace Strickland on a permanent basis.

Gosnell was, in many ways, worse than Strickland, though Sam wasn't exactly concerned with he could be capable of.

Instead, the lieutenant's main concern was more to do with the package he was carrying as he entered police headquarters.

Many in the station were going about their usual routine and business Sam arrived at the squad room, and many of them were shocked to see him slamming Pistol onto the floor.

"What the h*ll happened to him, Lieutenant?" One of the detectives asked Sam, judging from the serious bruises on the gangster.

Sam didn't mince any words as he replied, "F**ker walked right into my car, that's what the h*ll happened, Silverman."

By this point, several more people were starting to gather around Sam and Pistol.

"Uh...pardon for asking, Lieutenant, but..." Wilkinson nodded towards Pistol as he continued, "...what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" Sam scoffed before nodding at Pistol and said, "Scumbag's under arrest."

"Under arrest?" Detective Silverman asked. "You can't be serious, sir. He can't be arrested!"

"Says who?" Sam abruptly turned towards Silverman and leaned too close to the detective.

Silverman immediately shuddered, and the lieutenant turned towards the others as he barked, "Who the h*ll says that this f**ker can't be arrested?"

When no one answered his question, Sam stared at each of them squarely as he raised his voice.

"Is there any of you who's cowardly enough to continue to be f**king complicit in allowing criminal scumbags continue to own this city and prey off it?" The lieutenant demanded, his glare cooling down the squad room by ten degrees.

Calming down, Sam then said, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm no longer one of those cowards."

The lieutenant then proceeded to make his way to his office as he added, "And someone's gonna have to wash the puke off my trunk!"

As Sam stormed his way to his office, he paused briefly to curtly nod at Chan, who nodded back at him.

Also watching the drama unfolding in the squad room stood Sergeant McBride, who briefly nodded at Chan and Neville as well.

* * *

_November 1, 1968_

**(Shaggy's Point of View)**

It might've been a day week that we successfully took down the werewolf at that cabin near the Fred Quimby Park, yet it sure was clear that what we saw in the basement isn't leaving my mind any time soon.

I tried not to think too much about the implications of what we've saw, yet the sight of Maggie reminded me squarely just how dangerously close she is in becoming wolf chow, in a matter of speaking.

It doesn't help with the fact that the werewolf that has terrorized the city in the past few weeks was, in fact, a serial killer fantasized with wolves and was an escapee from the insane asylum in the county.

Jeez, at least by now, the werewolf has been taken down and the culprits involved in this conspiracy has been indicted on federal charges.

Even so, the indictments brought no closure to me, especially when the murder charges the culprits faced didn't include that of Mom's murder in that phony "accident", not to mention the fact that it was that "accident" that led me into this wreck that I've taken a long time to sort myself out of.

D*mn, now that I think of it, it feels like another relapse is on the horizon in my dependency for the painkillers that has mitigated the pain in my left arm for quite some time since they botched the surgery.

Either way, I try my best to not think too much about all of that as I went through my day at school and at the radio station, as I've always had done in the week that followed, and then eventually came my time to head home for dinner.

I know for a fact that Fred has his football practice as usual on Fridays - in fact, I gathered that there's an afternoon game against Crystal Cove today, and there's many at school who's staying late to watch the game and cheer on Fred's team, not that I'm a religious follower of high school football.

Likewise, Velma has her science club meeting today, and with Daphne on her internship at the paper, that pretty much leaves me alone with my thoughts as I headed straight home after my goodbyes to Mr. Kasem, Mr. Butler and Mr. Messick.

I sighed as I tried my best not to think too much of all those thoughts that came rushing into my mind since that take down at the cabin, and subsequently the showdown at City Hall last Thursday.

The last thing I need is for these nightmarish memories to trigger a relapse that would lead me back to the old habits I've been trying to kick since last spring.

Following the 10-minute bus ride, my hair swayed with the cool autumn breeze as I walked down the sidewalk from the bus stop to my place, during which I've noticed that many of the leaves on the trees were in the process of turning red.

At least Coolsville doesn't get as cold as New York does by this point of the year, where the temperatures reach the low-50s at highest as far as I remember.

As I made the turn onto Maple Street from Union Avenue, I squinted my eyes when I saw a familiar-looking figure walking towards my house, which is located just three houses down from the intersection.

What do you know? Daphne Blake was heading straight to my house, and I raised an eyebrow as she turned onto the walkway leading to the front door of my house.

Daphne was staring at her wristwatch as I approached her, then she looked up and blinked briefly.

"Shaggy." Daphne said to me in greeting.

"Daphne." I replied as I stopped in front of her. "I...wasn't expecting to see you here."

As the redhead placed her hands on her hips, I continued, "Thought you'd be heading home by now."

"Actually, my place is just a couple blocks away at the end of Easy Street, so I'm pretty much in the neighbourhood, Shag." Daphne as she nodded down the street towards where the intersection between Maple and Easy is at.

"Oh." I nodded understandingly. "Even so, I thought you'd wouldn't want to be here after what we saw happening last Thursday..."

I kinda trailed off, not wanting to invoke those dark memories again, though Daphne immediately raised her hand up and said, "Say no more."

Nodding again, I exhaled before I asked, "But anyways, what's up? Like, it seems like you've got something you'd like to say."

"That, I do." Daphne said. "Figured that I could use someone to talk to, considering what has happened and about to happen."

I nodded thoughtfully before I gestured towards the front door and asked, "In that case, you mind if we head inside to talk?"

"No problem." Daphne replied, and I reached into my pocket to grab my keys to unlock and open the door.

"Ladies first." I said as I opened the door and gestured towards the inside of the house.

Maggie was in the kitchen preparing dinner when we entered, and she paused and turned around when she heard us enter.

"Oh, you're just in time, Norville." Mags said to me as I stepped into the kitchen. "I need help with the pasta sauce."

"On it." I nodded as I rushed over to first wash my hands before putting on an apron and took over chopping the onions and tomatoes.

I can feel Daphne's eyes on me as she watched me chop those vegetables and slide them into the pot, during which Mags opened up a jar of pasta sauce.

With the onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and beef all sizzling, she then proceeded to pour the contents of the jar into the pot.

As I stirred the sauce, Mags moved to add some water into the empty jar to mix with the leftover sauce from it before pouring it into the pot.

"Like, make sure you don't add too much water, Mags." I instructed as I stirred the pot. "Last time you made it, the sauce was too soggy and wet."

Once Mags poured the remaining mix into the pot, she walked over to Daphne as she watched us.

"Does your brother..." Daphne was beginning to ask, only for Mags to answer swiftly.

"Yeah, he does most of the cooking." Maggie replied. "Norville's got a thing for it."

"Good to know." Daphne nodded thoughtfully. "In the meantime, are you alright?"

Maggie was silent for a brief moment, then she sighed.

"Well...I am really alright, Daphne." She said slowly, and I can feel her turning towards the redhead as she continued, "Granted, I still have the occasional cold night sweat, though it was much more pronounced in the first few days following that fateful day compared to the past couple of days."

"You've been sleeping well lately?" Daphne asked as I put the lid on the pot and turned it to low heat.

"Yeah, I've been sleeping well, especially with Dad being much more confident than he was following our Mom's death." Maggie nodded. "However, I'm sure it's not me that you're worried about, right?"

I was starting to get a feeling that Mags knew that Daphne was here to talk about me as the redhead asked, "What makes you say that?"

Maggie shrugged. "Between the three of us, I'm sure Norville has his moments where after everything we've witnessed last Thursday, the night frights that followed would see him having another relapse in his addiction to painkillers."

I turned around as Daphne nodded sympathetically.

"Have you been sleeping well lately, Shag?" Daphne asked.

I sighed as I stared at them, then I shook my head.

"Not really, especially since what we saw at the basement..." I trailed off briefly, "...kinda reminded me of being trapped...in the wreckage with...Mom..."

"It's been triggering those painful memories lately." Daphne interjected.

"Exactly." I nodded as I wiped a tear from my cheek. "I just...don't know if...I can manage to continue...like this without having to worry..."

Before I could finish, both Mags and Daphne rushed over to give me a comforting hug, and I sighed as a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

After some silence, Daphne said, "That's what I'm here for, Shag. After everything that has happened, my father has agreed, rather reluctantly, to pick up the tab for the physiotherapy and counselling sessions I've decided to have you enroll in."

I paused as I stared at her. "Come again?"

"After everything you've been through, particularly with your mother's death, the doctors botching your surgery leading to your addiction to painkillers and your sister's kidnapping, it's the least I could do to help you kick your addiction for good." Daphne said as she stared back at me.

I exhaled, then I nodded. "Like, I don't know how...to thank you, Daph."

"Wouldn't be necessary, Shag." Daphne said as she broke away from the hug and placed her hands on my shoulders and continued, "Consider this...my apology for the way I've...treated you early on."

I inhaled and smiled gently. "Apology accepted, though it won't be necessary, Daph. I might've made some assumptions about you if our roles were reversed."

Daphne smiled lightly as well, which is when the front door unlocked.

The three of us turned just in time for Dad to step through the front door and called out, "I'm home."

Immediately, we heard Scooby barking as he rushed down the stairs from my room, where Dad greeted him as he took off his suit jacket.

"Hey there, Scoobert." Dad said as he rubbed Scooby's head. "How's your day?"

Scooby panted enthusiastically and barked twice, and Dad smiled. "I haven't felt better in ages."

He then stepped into the kitchen and paused when he saw the three of us standing there, and then he said, "Norville, Margaret."

Turning towards Daphne specifically, he then added, "Daphne."

"Evening, Dad." I quickly said. "And don't worry, Daph's just here to-"

"No need to explain." Dad held his hand up. "In fact, I've got something that I thought your friend here would like to know about."

Daphne arched her eyebrows as Mags and I turned towards her. "What's up, Mr. Rogers?"

"I have been informed by the bureau that in thanks to your father's efforts, the grand jury has successfully indicted State Senator Daggett and co. on a long list of federal charges, which included conspiracy to commit fraud, breach of trust, murder, extortion and corruption." Dad said.

"I guess that chat I had with him last week pushed him to do the right thing and cooperate." Daphne nodded thoughtfully.

Dad nodded as well before he asked, "Have you been on speaking terms with your father lately after what happened last week?"

"Well, my father and I never really talked much normally, even before all of this blew up, to be honest with you, Mr. Rogers." Daphne admitted. "You know, with his work and everything, not to mention with my sisters being ahead of the curve in their futures."

"I understood." Dad nodded thoughtfully. "Your father know that you're here?"

"He does, though when I told him that I had something to take care of here, he was on the phone and he only covered the mouthpiece and nodded briefly at me before continuing with his phone call." Daphne replied.

I almost thought that Dad scoffed as he said, "Well, your father sure is a piece of work, I gotta say."

Daphne nodded in agreement, and for a while, there was some silence between the four of us.

Eventually, Dad broke the silence as he said, "Anyways, let's get the pasta ready, and perhaps you'd like to grab a bite before heading home, Daphne?"

He was looking at Daphne expectantly, and Daphne arched her eyebrows as she looked at him.

Her eyes darted first towards Maggie, and then me, and then back to Dad before she nodded.

"I don't suppose there's a way for me to say no to that, Mr. Rogers." Daphne replied.

Dad smiled. "Then, let's get the plates ready."

As Daphne and us began setting the dinner plates, the song _I Got You Babe _began playing on the radio.

The introductory notes began as Dad passed the plates to Mags, and she set off to set the table for the four of us.

"_They say we're young and we don't know..._" Sonny began. "_...__we won't find out until we grow._"

As Daphne set the forks and napkins, Cher took over as she sang, "_Well I don't know if all that's true, __'cause you got me, and baby I got you._"

And then as the instruments began playing the main theme, the duo sang, "_Babe...__I got you babe...__I got you babe_"

The song continued to play as we finished up with the pasta and placed all the pots on the dining table, and then the four of us proceeded to take our seats and serve ourselves.

I also served a dish of our pasta to Scoob's bowl and placed it down on the floor beside the table as Sonny and Cher sang, "_I got you to walk with me, __I got you to talk with me. __I got you to kiss goodnight, __I got you to hold me tight. __I got you, I won't let go, __I got you to love me so._"

Eventually, the main lyrics "_I got you babe_" began alternating with the main instrumental theme and gradually fade out as we dug in together.

* * *

**(Third Person)**

Meanwhile, the high school football match between Coolsville Central and Crystal Cove had went into overtime with neither side appeared to be on the verge of scoring the winning run.

At present, both teams were having a time out and were gathered around their respective coaches.

Fred listened intently as Coach Clay barked out his usual orders, and he glanced around and noticed that Troy Drake, the quarterback, wasn't among the players gathered with them around their coach.

The blonde frowned as he wondered where Troy was, and then when they were dismissed by the coach and returned to their positions, he spotted the quarterback crouched behind the bench.

Unaware that Fred was observing him, Troy poured something into his water fountain, replaced the cover and shook it gently before opening it and gulped the water down.

Fred didn't think much about what Troy just drank until when a member of the opposing team managed to grab the ball from Red and raced towards the goal post.

Without warning, Troy slammed into the player in question with a check that was so hard that the player ended up flying towards the opposing team's bench.

The Crystal Cove players, upon seeing their teammate flying towards them, swiftly got off the bench and moved out of the way, just in time for the player to slam right into the bench and snapped it in half.

As Fred stared at the scene in disbelief, the referee blew the whistle while rushing over to the players from the opposing teams who were now crowding and arguing about what Troy just did.

Almost immediately, Coach Clay got onto the field to escort Troy off-field while barking at the referee, shouting, "Big deal. That was just a check."

However, it was what the coach said to Troy as he led him to the lockers that led to Fred's frown deepen.

"Nice move, kid." Clay said to Troy, who nodded and grinned maliciously.

Even though he was a good distance away from the duo, Fred could tell what the coach was saying to Troy based on the pat on the back and Troy's grin.

* * *

A short while later, after Coolsville Central scored the game-winning touchdown, the football team headed their separate ways after getting changed in the team locker room.

In spite of his growling stomach, rather than heading straight home, Fred decided to follow Troy, especially after Troy took a turn and headed the opposite direction towards where his home was at.

Silently shadowing Troy from a distance, Fred maintained the frown on his face.

_What the h*ll was it that Troy added to his water that led to him getting the strength he needed to slam the opposing player into the benches, snapping it in half? _Fred wondered to himself.

After what seemed like forever, Troy eventually arrived at a dark alleyway near the outskirts of downtown and rounded the corner.

Unaware that he was being followed, Troy relaxed as he approached the pair of goons.

As Fred peaked around the corner and looked on, Troy said, "Hey guys."

The first goon stepped forward and shook his hand. "You got the stuff?"

Troy reached into his school bag, pulled out a full paper bag and shook it gently.

At the sound of the metallic cling from inside the paper bag, Troy replied, "It's all here, just as you've asked, Andy."

Andy nodded as he took the paper bag from Troy, opened it and peeked inside. Then, he nodded and snapped his fingers.

Right on cue, the second goon stepped forward and handed another paper bag to Troy.

"Should be enough for you to keep your team on a winning streak, kid." The second goon said.

Fred's eyes narrowed as he watched Troy accepting the paper bag, during which the second goon added, "Boss is gonna be happy when you help him win a windfall in betting on your team."

Without missing a beat, Fred stepped back and swiftly headed the opposite direction before stepping into a nearby diner.

Reaching the counter, the blonde asked, "Mind if I borrow your phone? Just need to make a quick phone call."

"Of course." The cashier nodded.

Fred placed a $5 bill on the counter and said, "Keep the change."

The cashier stared at the blonde suspiciously briefly before accepting the bill and looked up, saying, "Got some dirty dishes to clear."

Once the cashier was out of earshot, Fred glanced around before picking up the earpiece and dialled a number.

When the party at the other end answered, Fred said, "It's me, Velms. I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner time."

A pause went by before the blonde scratched his head and said, "Yeah, listen. I think Red Herring's gonna be the least of your worries if you decide to do this with me, Velms, so hear me out."

Another pause went by before Fred said, "I think someone's involving the team in some match-fixing ring in exchange for PEDs."

* * *

Meanwhile, over at San Francisco International Airport, George Blake was waiting patiently at the arrivals terminal as he consulted the time on his watch.

The former Marine quartermaster sighed as he noted the time, and his eyes wondered to the departures and arrivals display board.

He was focused on one particular flight that was arriving from Vancouver, British Columbia, and as he scanned the board, he noted that the flight in question, operated by Canadian Pacific Air Lines was in customs following arrival five minutes ago.

Tapping his foot, the businessman reached into his suit pocket and took out a pipe and placed it in his mouth.

Then, he struck a match and light the flame in the chamber of the bowl before shaking the flame out and produced a couple of puffs.

Several moments went by before the passengers from the flight began descending towards the luggage claim area, and he paused and glanced at his watch again.

Another few moments went by before a man with brown hair and wearing a tan suit began approaching him, pulling a suitcase.

Huffing out the smoke from his pipe, George smiled as he opened up his arms.

"Radley." George exclaimed as the man in front of him smiled back and walked over.

"George." Radley nodded back as the two men shared a handshake and a brief embrace. "It's been a while."

"Indeed it has been." George nodded. "I take it that your trip overseas was a breeze, eh?"

"Yes, they were." Radley replied as George lead him towards the exit. "I don't suppose Coolsville has changed much during my years away, eh?"

"Afraid not." George shook his head as he lead Radley to his parked car. "Though I suppose that's about to change soon."

Radley didn't say another word as he got his luggage onto the trunk, then he got on the car and George drove off.

Throughout the two-hour drive back to Coolsville, Radley was busy staring at the surrounding scenery.

As the car drove past the "Welcome to Coolsville" sign, the look in Radley's eyes darkened as the familiar-looking night time skyline of the city began to turn up.

The night time skyline was a painful reminder of the traumatic event that occurred sixteen years ago in the city, an event that subsequently fueled the fire for the new crusade he is about to embark on.

The car then drove across a bridge, during which the scene shifts to the creek the bridge crosses over of.

Under the shadow of the darkness, a falcon can be seen diving towards the river, where it subsequently scoops up with a swamp rat.

* * *

**And so we've come to a close to this story, though as you all can see, folks, the final sections of this chapter overshadows the events that have yet to occur in the course of this new series.**

**In fact, you can say that the gang's adventures are just beginning, adventures that will continue in _D7 City of Mysteries: The Falcon Begins._**

**Please read and review!**


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